


Happy Families

by TozaBoma



Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Not What It Looks Like, people are worse than demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TozaBoma/pseuds/TozaBoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case brings itself to the mill house and John, Chas and Zed are thrown up against demons, corporations, their own instincts and even Spanish. Special guest appearance by Manny. Set just after episode 10, Saint of Last Resorts part 2, so contains spoilery references. Episodicly canontastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**ONE**

 

 

“Ok then, Roberta - see you tomorrow,” the woman called. Long blonde hair and a very smart suit to match, she picked up her briefcase and collected her umbrella.

Roberta, at her large desk at the head of the office, looked up. “Already? What time is it?”

“Time we were both going home, boss,” she replied, flashing her a smile as she headed for the far door. “I’m out of here - you don’t pay me enough in overtime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roberta sighed.

“Pack up and go!” She paused at the door, pushing the glass open but pausing mid-stride. “If I come in tomorrow and find you still at your desk, I’ll kill you - _boss_.”

Roberta swung her chair right round to look down the long room at her. “You would, too. Go home, Elena. I’ll just be a few more minutes - I _promise_. I’ll call you later.”

Elena sighed, shook her head, and left. The door swung closed in a gradual arc, obeying the laws of the safety device atop.

Roberta swung her chair back to her desk, obeying the laws of deadlines. “Just a few more minutes my ass,” she grumbled. “Like this project is going to approve itself.” She swiped black hair from her eyes and paged back to the front of the heavy document in front of her, to search for a page number in the very long list of contents.

The glass door gave a swish and a subtle thump.

“I said a few minutes, Elena,” she called, pre-occupied. “If I don’t do this you won’t get _any_ overtime paid, because we’ll all be out of a job.”

Silence.

She looked up. Her eyes scanned the office. Empty grey cubicles and their partitions greeted her. She shook her head and looked back at the words by her hand.

A wisp, a tremble of something on the carpet.

She huffed. “Get whatever it is you’ve forgotten and go! You’re not supposed to be in here this late!”

The brass name plate on her desk shifted. She jumped and stared. It began to tip all by itself, until ‘Roberta Moors, Company Director’ fell flat on its face.

She pushed herself away from the desk and got to her feet. “Hello?” she called.

She didn’t even see the killing blow.

 

ooOoo

 

The janitor hummed to himself, riding the lift up to the top floor. He began to sing quietly, trundling his cart of cleaning supplies down the hallway to push at the large office door. He tutted as he found it unlocked.

“Ms Moors!” he called, pulling the cart in behind him. “You in here still? This won’t do.”

He looked up across the room, toward the large desk at the top. Shaking his head, he left the cart where it was and went up to the wooden desk. He put his hands on his hips to frown at the boss, currently face down on her arms on the surface.

“This really is ridiculous,” he sighed. “Working late all the time. I know going home freshly divorced ain’t no fun - _believe_ me, I know,” he said, coming round the desk to Roberta’s side. “But trust me, you don’t want to make a habit of—”

He put his hand to Roberta’s arm and pulled. Roberta Moors, thirty-eight year old company director of Moors Incorporated, slumped back in her chair.

And blood gushed from her suit. It erupted over the desk, over the floor, and over the poor, screaming janitor.

 

ooOoo

 

Chas hefted the two large brown bags from the front seat of his cab and elbowed the door shut. He manhandled them up to the front door of the mill house. He paused to find the key, and then successfully got them both inside. He managed to get down the wooden steps, along the top landing, and even down the iron staircase and to the millstone before dropping any of the groceries. He was just congratulating himself on this small miracle when a voice surprised him.

“Mr Chandler?”

He froze, thought about it, and then turned slowly. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention; the distant bookshelves watched him with smug amusement as he checked the table currently covered in a scrying map, and then gave the staircase a glance. “Hello?” he hazarded.

“Up here.”

He turned to his left and then his head went back. A woman, no more than forty years old, was watching him, her light brown hair obscuring one eye. Her pale lilac shirt and brown trousers were somewhat out of tune with the Converse trainers she had on. So too was the way she hung just an inch from the ceiling, as if her elbows were on strings.

“Ah… hi,” he managed.

“Little help?” she asked with a polite smile.

Chas backed up one, a hand to the knife in the sheath tucked discretely under his shirt. “Uh - mind if I ask how you got in here first?”

“My name is Nayda. I’m here to see Mr Constantine.”

Chas’ hand relaxed slightly. “Of course. You a friend of his?”

“He doesn’t know me. I was told he might be able to help me.”

“And how did you find this place?”

She smiled. “A cab driver. I’m a witch, Mr Chandler. Spirits of the air and of the earth led me to the area. They informed me that I would have to get past you before I could speak to him.” She looked around. “He _is_ here, isn’t he?”

Chas folded his arms. “Probably.” His head tilted. “These spirits of the air and of the earth - they didn’t warn you about the booby traps, did they?”

“No they did not,” she allowed. Her hands turned out in an attempt to shrug. “I don’t mind being up here all night, Mr Chandler, but I’d rather not waste your time. Either I see him or you send me home and I try to sort this out myself.” She jerked her head to one side, blowing air up her cheek to try to move her fringe from her line of vision.

“Well… I’ll need to check he’s receiving guests first.” _Knowing him he’s prancing around naked in pig’s blood again - or worse_ , he thought. “Just - uh - stay there.”

“Sure,” she shrugged, wholly resigned.

Chas shook his head and walked off, going to the staircase. He got halfway up before he heard noises far off to his right. Looking up, he hurried up the steps and went along the upper landing. He followed it along, trying to put something together in his head that described the situation yet sounded credible. His boots paused on the creaky boards as he heard two sets of definite grunting noises from behind a door - then a voice.

“Ngghh - come on, John! Harder!”

“Keep your - ngghh - bloody hair on - ngghh - love!”

“Is that - all you’ve - got!”

“Well - ngghh - ‘scuze me _Zed_ \- ngghh - for bein’ a sprinter - and not - ngghh - a marathon runner!”

Chas looked at the doorknob. He considered turning and running away instead.

“ _Harder!_ ” Zed said, rather angrily.

“I am!” John countered.

The synchronised grunting got louder.

Chas stepped back.

“There!” John grunted. “That hard enough - ngghh - for you - love?”

“Better!” Zed panted. “Keep it - keep it - up!”

Chas’ face squirmed in discomfort. He looked around the corridor for some hole to conveniently open up and swallow him and his embarrassment.

“Nearly - nearly - nearly!” John cried.

“Ok just - just - _harder!_ ”

“Ngghh - so close!”

“Oh - oh - nearly - nearly—”

“Ngghh _aaaa!_ _And we’re home!_ ” John shouted in victory.

Zed grunted and laughed, and Chas heard skin being slapped. He stepped back directly onto the creaky board.

“Is that someone outside?” came John’s voice.

Chas turned, determined to run for the staircase.

The door whisked open and John appeared, covered in sweat - and his white shirt and tie. His black trousers looked dusty but at least they were present. “Chas, mate?” he called.

Chas stopped and swivelled back to look at him. “Oh, ah, hey,” he said gamely. “Didn’t realise you were up here.”

Zed pushed John onto the upper landing and looked out of the door. She, too, was rather sweaty but her two tank tops and jeans were definitely in place. “Hey, Chas,” she panted. She patted a hand into John’s shoulder, safely on the white cotton, her other arm going round him to hang off his shoulder. “Want to know what we’ve been up to?”

“No!” he blurted. “Absolutely not. Nuh-uh.”

Zed pushed herself off John. “We fixed the chandelier,” she said innocently. “Took us, what, ten minutes to yank that thing up by its rope?” she guessed, looking at John over her shoulder. “It was _heavy_.”

He picked up the end of his tie, wiping his face with it. “That’s me knackered. Any food going?”

Chas’ chin lifted as he began to smile. “Oh! The chandelier!” he cried. “Right! Yes!”

“So you’ll be the one stickin’ new candles in it,” John said. “I’ll be buggered if I’m getting up there after the fight we’ve just been through.”

“Me neither,” Zed said. She folded her arms and leant her back against the wall. “Did you need something?”

Chas grinned. “Yeah, uh, kinda. There’s a lady downstairs to see you, John. Said she’s a witch, that the spirits of the air and of the earth told her where you were.”

“Don’t know if I like the sound of that,” John said.

But Zed looked awed. “A witch? Cool.”

“Well you go meet her then,” John grumped.

“Oh come on,” Zed smiled. “She came to call on the _great_ John Constantine for a reason. Maybe she just wants to do some witchy shopping - you do have a lot of weird stuff downstairs.”

“The house has her in a trap, so… you’ll have to get her out of it first,” Chas said.

“Then lead on, mate,” John said. “‘Spose we’d better see what she wants.”

The three of them wended their way down the corridor and the staircase, ending up at the bottom.

John slid his hands in his pockets, looking up at the ceiling. “Ooh, blimey,” he said to himself, surprised. “She’s a bit of alright, ent she?”

Zed came out from behind him. “You know you said that out loud, right? Did you not feel your lips moving?”

John continued to smile, apparently oblivious. “Alright, love?” he called up. “Chas said you wanted to see me.”

The woman was watching him. “Constantine? John Constantine?”

“In the flesh,” he beamed. His eyes ran over her in a coldly analytical manner. “Before I let you down, would you care to tell me what you’re doing here?”

She pulled on an arm slightly, twitching as if to get comfortable. “My ex is dead. I need you to help me find the killer.”

“Certainly,” he said with a serious nod. “Let me give you my personal hotline to all things magically helpful. Ready? It’s nine… one… one.”

Zed elbowed him, catching him right in his side. “Hear her out first.”

“Ow!” he said pointedly, glaring at her. Then he looked up at the woman. “Alright, then. What’s your name, and who’s the dead ex?”

“My name’s Nayda Pasternak,” she said slowly. “Yesterday morning I got a call from the police here. They said that…” She looked at the far wall for a moment, then back down at John. “They said that Roberta, my ex-wife? She’s dead. Killed in her office.”

“Your _ex_ -wife. So why do you care?” John asked. Zed slammed a fist into John’s arm. “Pack it in, will you?” he warned her. He put his right hand to his injured arm, stepping away from Zed. He looked back up at Nayda. “First things first: are you sure she was murdered?”

“Yes,” Nayda said. “The police… they took me to the scene - Roberta’s office. I saw the blood, I was told how she died. There’s no evidence of anyone else in the building at the time of her death.”

“Look, I’m very sorry pet, but I really think the best thing to do would be to stick with the police,” John said. “I mean, I’m not their friend; all I do is dodgy stuff. If it’s a murder, you really should just let them sort it out. They know what they’re doing. Mostly.”

“Oh of course,” she snapped. “I went to the not insignificant trouble of collecting ingredients, learning new spells, and invoking the spirits of the earth at just the right time and place, just to ask them who could help me, _and_ where they were, _and_ how to find them, simply because I forgot Atlanta has police.”

Zed smiled and nodded. “I like her.”

John scowled at her, then looked back up at Nayda. “Alright,” he groused. “Why _did_ you ask these spirits for help?”

“Because at the crime scene I smelt brimstone, Mr Constantine,” she said stiffly. “And there were bad signs by the desk. Nowhere else, just directly in front of Roberta’s desk.”

“Brimstone?” Zed asked quietly.

“Nowadays we call it sulphur,” John said. He sniffed, running his tie through his fingers slowly. “You sure it was sulphur?”

“I’d venture I know chemicals and their elements better than you, Mr Constantine.”

His face hitched up at one side, in either a wince or a smile, or in Zed’s hopeful opinion, a combination of both. “And just how did I come up on your radar?” he asked.

“Your name came to me through water.”

“Pissed yourself laughing, did you?”

Zed took a step and flung a fist out toward his arm but he side-stepped her neatly. He turned a shit-eating grin on her. She folded her arms, glaring at him.

He looked back up at the woman hanging from the ceiling and turned decidedly more serious. “Alright, I’ve heard enough.” He went to the wall and put his hand against it. “Brace yourself. It should let you down slowly, but you never know.”

“Anything,” she said. “Just get me down.”

He whispered something to the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting a quick drop and sharp stop, but instead she began to drift down to the floorboards. Her shoes connected with the wood just as her elbows dropped to her sides.

“There we go,” John said grandly. “So. Where do we start?”

“Well first I’d like to thank you,” she said, sounding a little out of breath. She swept her brown fringe from her eyes to sit neatly behind her ears. “I mean, you have no reason to help me, really. But the spirits said—”

“The spirits don’t tell me what to do,” he interrupted. “Unless it’s gin. That _does_ have a nasty habit of making me do things.”

Zed walked up to her. “Nayda?” she asked. “Sit down. Start at the beginning, please. John _will_ listen, I promise.”

John rolled his eyes as Zed held out a hand, waving her to the chairs around the large table. The map it was wearing like an old and well-stained tablecloth didn’t seem to faze Nayda at all.

Zed sat opposite her, placing her hands on the table and clasping her fingers. “So, Nayda,” she said. “Please - tell us all you can about the crime scene - if that’s ok. I know it’s painful,” she added gently.

Nayda smiled, then looked up as John wandered around the table. He hovered behind Zed, watching, as Chas came to the table and sat himself down. John glanced at her and she offered a small smile. Her hand went up and pulled a band from her hair, freeing the shoulder-length cut. She ran her hand through it, shaking it free. “Ok,” she began. “The office is normal. It just… feels like work, and stress, and coffee and late nights, arguments with spouses. The usual.”

“You’re a kind of psychic?” Zed asked brightly.

“Not so much,” Nayda said. “Only when I… when I make it work.” She sniffed. “But the desk that Roberta sits - _used to_ sit at… It’s clean. It’s hard work and good intentions. Until… There’s a circle around it, and everything in it is evil.” She paused and looked up at John. “It feels like Hell, Mr Constantine.”

“And you’d know what Hell feels like, would you?” he asked.

“It’s the closest word I can find that would describe it in terms you could understand,” she said stiffly.

“Then you should have said LA in the summertime,” he grunted. “Look, love, if you seriously want me to do this, you’re going to have to cough up more than this.”

“Like what?” she demanded. “That’s all I know.”

“What do _you_ think it is?” he asked.

“I don’t _know_ \- that’s why I asked for someone to help me.” She glared up at him. “Do you know what I _do_ , Mr Constantine?”

“Plant herb gardens and dance naked under a full moon?”

Her lips stretched as thin as her patience. “I help people with natural medicine. I occasionally make it rain but mostly I cleanse houses of negative energy. I do not believe in Hell, or demons, or the pantheon of gods that people trot out on a regular basis to explain things they fear or are upset by.” She paused. “The question is, can you help me? Can you find who did this and bring them to account?”

He spun away slowly, his hand around his tie, making Zed and Chas turn to watch him. He paced round in an aimless circle. “You hear your ex has been killed and you ask for help finding her murderer, and when you visit the crime scene you think it stinks of Hell - or whatever non-witches would call it.” He stopped and stared at the floor. “And therein lies the problem.”

“Sounds straight forward to me,” Zed said.

John ignored her. “You reckon it’s an evil entity that’s done this. Not once did you stop to consider it was just a nasty bastard of the normal human variety. Your _first_ conclusion, your _first_ instinct, was that it must be something otherworldly. Why is that? What are you not telling us, love? And be honest. It makes things go _so_ much smoother.”

Zed and Chas looked back at Nayda. She took a deep breath and sighed it out, as if testing how long she could make it last. Then she sat back in the chair and looked at John with resignation.

“Come on, love. It’s a fair cop, and all that,” he said, but now his voice was softer. “What was your missus into? Is that why you got divorced?”

Nayda shook her head. “Roberta was… When I first met her, she was in this… group. Of friends. They were bankers, stock brokers, rich kids, into getting high on a Saturday night and partying till the wee hours. I met her on a Sunday, on one of her come-downs,” she said, a smile pulling at her mouth. “We talked all day. She needed it. Then… She called me during the week. She still saw her friends, but… less and less. We must have been dating for… I don’t know, six months? She broke off a festival weekend with her friends - she knew what I was, but she wasn’t bothered by it.” She paused. “Of course her friends decided it was all my fault, and… that led to arguments. Every time. But she made it clear - she chose me over them, over everything. We moved in together, she was off all the party drugs and even alcohol. She got promoted at work, was steadily getting higher.” She wiped a hand over her face.

“Hey, uh, you want a drink?” Chas offered.

Nayda looked at him. “Just water, please.”

Chas got up and went for the bags of groceries. Zed leant on the table with her elbows. “And then?”

“And then,” Nayda said, “she realised she wanted to do more with her life. We were both content for me to be the stay-at-home wife. We got married, we lived in New York, life was good.”

“Yeah, sure,” John said scathingly. Zed turned round to glare at him but he was already pacing round in another wandering circle. She turned back to the table.

“She got higher and higher in her firm, then…” Nayda sat up straighter. “Then her father died. She was upset… She asked me to speak to him, to allow him to speak to her.”

John raised his eyebrows. “So she heard ‘witch’ and just decided you could do anything ‘occulty’?”

“Exactly,” she sighed. “I said I didn’t do that kind of thing, that I didn’t _know_ how to do that kind of thing. She thought I was _trying_ to upset her…” She shook her head. “She went on about it for weeks. Then - just like that - she dropped the whole thing, said she’d had enough of it all.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe she just realised she had to get over it,” Zed offered.

“Or maybe,” John said, “she’d found someone else to do it.”

Zed turned and looked up at him. He shrugged. She looked back at Nayda.

“So,” Nayda said stiffly, “she said that because her father had died, his big company out in Atlanta needed a new director. She said… she said there was some clause that said it had to be her.”

“More like someone had taken her money, researched the poor bird, then told her what she wanted to hear at a fake seance,” John said. Zed turned again to frown at him in angry reprove. “What?” he asked innocently. “I would have done.”

Nayda smiled slightly. “So anyway, it turns out she really _was_ next in line. She came out to Atlanta, temporarily at first. I stayed to continue to run my business from home. She was streamlining her father’s company, she said, turning it into a more modern place. I was so proud of her.” She paused. “Then… she started saying she was too busy to have me fly down for the weekend. And then… she stopped telling me about the work outings.”

“Let me guess,” John said, “she was worried people would think you were a witch.”

“I _am_ a witch,” Nayda said. Chas appeared at her elbow with a glass of water, and she took it gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. Chas sat down again. She looked over at John. “I was never ashamed of it. Turns out she was. I ignored her excuses and I flew up one weekend - I wanted to be romantic and surprise her. Instead of a nice quiet dinner, she got drunk and told me she’d never believed in all my ‘hocus-pocus’, and her friend at work said it was all devil worship.” She sipped her water.

John shrugged to himself. “That’s what bad TV does for you. Blame your glorious American network gods.”

“Well. Things got… difficult. I worked on my business more, and she called less. Then one day she came home, to New York, and told me that she knew I was having an affair with the next door neighbour.”

“Was she a witch too?” John asked.

“ _He_ was a nice guy - a librarian,” she said stiffly.

“You mean your wife hadn’t noticed that you played for the other team?”

Nayda raised her eyes to his with the first glimmer of cold anger. “I play for _all_ teams, Mr Constantine. Don’t be so narrow-minded.”

“Oh you’d be surprised how open-minded I can be, love,” he said seriously.

She cleared her throat. “She was wrong. I _told_ her she was wrong - I asked who’d told her these lies. She said it was a friend of hers, someone who had helped her with her father’s wishes.” She paused. “We argued - a lot. It was… horrible. She eventually told me that this friend of hers had spoken to her father through a ouija board.”

“Christ on a bike,” John heaved in disbelief. “A ouija board?”

“I know,” Nayda sighed. “But this one apparently worked.”

“I thought they were just for the movies,” Zed said, turning in her seat to look at John.

“They are, Zed. You buy one from Hasbro and you’re safe, unless you do something stupid like bleed on it whilst accidentally reciting a very long and awkward Latin invocation over it.” He shook his head. “So Nayda, love. What did this ouija board tell her?”

“It said that I was cheating on her, that I would never be happy with her, because of her success.” She paused to sip her water again. “We tried a separation after that - it was never the same. She moved out here permanently, to her father’s firm. She rebuilt it, made it viable. She got down to the hard job of making money with it all. In two years we were filing divorce papers, not really knowing how we got into so many fights.” She sighed. “She thought I was unhappy with her, with _us_. She never could just step back and appreciate life, like I could. I was content - _completely_ content - to watch her climb the ladders and make all the money she wanted. I just needed my own speed. I never cared for public success.”

Zed smiled apologetically. “Sounds like you’re the grounded one.”

“I thought so,” Nayda said. “That was my sin, I think.”

“Do witches believe in sin?” John mused, starting off on another wandering circle.

“When something like this happens? Yes, we do,” she said.

Zed looked at Chas. “So when we do start?” she asked Chas. He opened his mouth to reply.

“We are _not_ going down there,” John announced.

Zed turned to frown at him. “But we—”

“We’re _not_ just sticking our noses into a police murder investigation,” he interrupted.

“But John—”

He held his finger up, his lips pursed in decision. “We start with the crime scene. At _night_.”

Zed grinned. “And I’m coming too, right?”

“Now hold on,” John said hastily. “No-one said anything about you leaving this house—”

“Not fair, John,” she argued. “Not after—”

“Life isn’t fair,” he said with a wide, haughty smile. He began to walk off, past the table.

“I had a vision!” she called, as he headed back to the staircase.

“Pull the other one,” he called over his shoulder.

“It was you getting arrested!”

He paused with a frown, his hand on the railing, his back to her. “Oh aye?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “ _Someone_ called the police when you were at a crime scene you shouldn’t have been at!”

He scowled at the staircase so hard it nearly buckled in fright. Then he huffed. “Fine!” he called. “But we’re keeping a low profile on this one!” He hauled himself up the iron steps.

Chas got up, gesturing to the other side of the room with his head. Zed got up. “Uh, wait here, ok Nayda?” she said with a smile.

“Of course,” she nodded.

Zed followed Chas across the room, glancing over at Nayda as they came to a stop by the far wall. “What?” she whispered at him.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, keeping his voice low, “but I don’t feel comfortable with John being so close to anything evil, not so soon after Mexico.”

Zed put her hands on her hips. “He’s a big boy. He’ll just have to… suck it up.”

“But Pazuzu was a big-time demon king, Zed. John says he’s fine, that he doesn’t remember any of his time possessed, but I’m not so sure he’s ready to go jumping into the whole evil-fighting thing just yet.”

“He’ll have us,” she said firmly. “We don’t leave him on his own. We look out for him.” She paused. “You do that anyway. Why are you worried?”

“Inside this house it’s easy,” Chas said. “The house likes him, likes him being here. When he’s out… It can’t protect him.”

“Then we make sure he’s warded up before we leave here,” she said. “Everything else… We’ve got his back, right?”

“Right,” he nodded. “Let’s work out what we’re doing before the sun goes down and we have to go into the city to trespass onto a crime scene.”

At the top of the staircase, John withdrew from the shadows of the metal stanchion, drifting back to a safe distance. Their overheard words rolled around inside his head. He studied his feet, scratched at the back of his head, and then spun on the balls of his feet to the upper corridor, with the intention of locating his room and his bag.

 

 


	2. TWO

 

 

Zed stopped the blue truck at the kerb under a tall streetlamp. She snapped off the lights and the road was reduced to dimly defined shadows. John pushed on the passenger door and climbed out, fishing a packet of cigarettes out of his inside pocket. She appeared from round the other side, closing the door and wandering round to the pavement just as John lit up his Silk Cut.

“I keep telling you - those things will kill you,” she said, watching him pocket the pack and the lighter.

“Don’t think they’re going to get the chance, love.” He sniffed and looked up at the area surrounding them.

“You know, Chas is pretty upset he wasn’t allowed to come.”

“Yeah? Well we need him to keep an eye on our witch right now,” he replied, taking a drag on the cigarette and walking round her, hefting his bag along.

She put her hands in her back pockets and stared at the pavement, turning something over in her head. Then she followed quietly, and the two of them walked along the empty street. “So… all your protections and things, the wards you had… like… attached to you. Y’know, before Mexico.”

“Yes, I put them all back. No, I’m not at risk from a demonic entity. Yes, you two can stop molly-coddling me,” he said briskly. They passed under another bright streetlamp, turning his face into a relief map of black hollows and dark spaces.

“I’m assuming ‘molly-coddling’ means ‘looking out for’,” she smiled.

“Oppressively so.”

“Has it occurred to you that it’s only logical that we want you to put back everything you took off? If you didn’t you’d be an idiot.”

“I’m warded up to my eyeballs, ok?” he said with a smile, but Zed didn’t care for the way it didn’t touch said orbs.

“Ok then,” she said brightly. “Good.”

They turned the corner of the block. John looked up as they walked. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Are you kidding? I get to see a gruesome murder scene and everything!” she gushed with fake excitement. “Oh John Constantine, you take a girl to all the best places.”

“Alright, give over,” he smiled. “Seriously, why _are_ you here?”

“Because Chas is looking after Nayda, you’re doing something productive, and I’m getting cabin fever.”

“Speaking of,” he said, stopping them under a streetlamp. He put down his bag, holding his free hand out to her.

She looked at it. “I’m not touching bare skin, not when you’re loco as a box of frogs.”

He grinned, taking another drag on the cigarette. “Trust me.”

“You want me to know something? You can just tell me,” she said warily.

“You remember what happened the last time you grabbed my arm?” he said, his smile fading. “And when you touched Gary?”

“Very well,” she nodded, her large eyes cast down at his hand. “So… no.”

“Trust me.”

“No.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Yes. I just don’t trust—”

He reached out and his hand closed around hers. She gasped - and then her face turned into confusion. “See?” he smiled.

“There’s… nothing,” she said, relieved. “Absolutely nothing. Like when I touch material.”

“Exactly.” He let go of her hand and picked up his large bag. “So stop worrying.”

“What did you do?” she asked as he turned and walked off. She hurried to fall into step beside him.

“You know I spent a day down that long corridor we don’t talk about?”

“Yes. Chas waited for you to come out. When you didn’t and it was getting late he put food at the end. He said you’d smell it and come back, like a cat.”

“That’s Chas. Always thinking,” he smiled.

“What were you doing?”

“Preparing replacement charms, protection spells, wards,” he said, as if to himself. “Going through the motions, to begin with. Like I was on autopilot. But I kind of got into the swing of it again - got me back, if you know what I mean.” He noticed her nod to herself, as if she had no idea he could see her from the corner of his eye. “Anyway,” he went on, “I thought while I was there I could ward myself from a few other things, too. Like you,” he said, turning a smile on her.

“Well good,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure bare skin is not what comes to mind when you think of me. Or is it?” he added slyly.

She grinned, pushing at his shoulder playfully. “No it is not. But it means I don’t have to fear being around you.”

“Oh you should definitely do that, love.”

“No, I meant… When I’m out places, when I’m with people, I have to remember not to touch. Sometimes you just bump into people, and it all pours out. I don’t like it.” She paused. “Hey - could you put one of those things on me? To stop me seeing things when I accidentally touch people?”

“No, Zed, I can’t,” he said sadly. “It stops stuff getting _out_ , it can’t stop you from taking it in. Wrong protection spell.”

“Then do you have another one?”

“Yes,” he nodded, as he came to a stop on the pavement. “It’s called training and patience.”

“John,” she warned.

“You learn to control it, and it doesn’t control you.”

“Then when we get back, you’d better start some _proper_ training, Yoda - it’s about time you did,” she tutted. 

“Hey, it’s not easy bein’ green.”

She shook her head and looked up at the building in front of them. “Is this it?”

“This is the address,” he said. He took a last puff on his Silk Cut and then flicked the butt across the very neat paving. “Now then. You go to the security desk and tell the nice man you were here earlier today and forgot your bag.”

“My bag?” she scoffed. “No-one’s going to believe I forgot my entire bag.”

“He will when you use those big brown eyes on him,” he nodded firmly. “He’ll let us in and then we’ll go to the crime scene and have a quick squiz at what went down that night.”

She put her hands into her hair, pushing it up to bounce slightly as she cleared her throat. Then she pulled her jacket straight and went to the large glass doors of the building.

It opened to reveal a wide open lobby, with TV screens on the walls showing stocks announcement from all over the world. Two luxury leather sofas were spaced out, twenty or so feet from a horseshoe desk, hosting a phone and a man who looked like boredom had tired itself out hours ago.

She strode up to the desk and put her hands on it. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Uh… Bradley, is it?”

The young man got up out of his chair quickly, one hand touching at his name badge self-consciously. “Hi, miss. Yes. Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can,” she smiled, as John appeared behind her. “I know it’s kind of late, Bradley, but… could I just sneak upstairs? You see I was here earlier and I left my phone up there.”

“Oh, uhm, well, no-one’s supposed to—”

“I didn’t even realise it wasn’t in my bag till I got home, and I had to turn around and come all the way back. Atlanta is kinda weird at night, right? I mean, it’s really shiny and it’s got these big lights everywhere… It’s hard to navigate without your phone telling you where to turn,” she said innocently.

Bradley cleared his throat. “Well—”

“You could come with us. To make sure I don’t steal all the money in this building,” she added cheekily.

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, reaching for his cap behind the desk. “I suppose. I mean, there’s no money here, miss.”

“Not the sharpest tool in the box,” John said under his breath. 

Zed pushed an elbow back and into him. “Ignore him,” she said firmly, to Bradley. “He’s my… uh…”

“Brother,” John supplied.

“—Of my dad,” she blurted.

John turned to her, his mouth open in horrified surprise, but Bradley just blinked.

“It’s a long, sad tale of foster parents south of the border,” she nodded, her face conspiratorial. “So can we go up?”

Bradley felt for his keys on his belt. “Ok. I’ll just… Yeah. I can take you up. Which floor?”

“The top one,” she said. “I had a meeting with Roberta Moors’ replacement.”

“Oh, Elena Ashmore,” he nodded.

“Yes, right, Miss Ashmore.”

He came out from behind the desk and went to the lifts. Zed and John looked at each other as he walked away.

“Brother of your _dad?_ ” John demanded hoarsely, trying to keep his voice down. “That is the single rudest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.”

“What?” she asked.

He pushed her toward the guard by the lifts. “I’ve got barely ten years on you - probably not even that.”

“Yeah, cos you _really_ look like my brother, _cerebro de burro_.”

“Hey, I know what that means,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

She just smiled, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and went up to the guard.

The lift arrived. They got in. It went up.

 

ooOoo

 

Bradley unlocked the tall glass door, stepping back and waving Zed forward. She smiled and pushed it open, holding it for a second for John to follow her. The office was silent but warm, and she looked left to the far end, before surveying all the way down to the right.

John slewed out from behind her, walking off to their right. She turned to Bradley. “Thanks,” she said. “Do you have to wait here? I mean, I’ll just be a minute. Then I’ll come right back down, I promise.”

“Well… I could just go back downstairs. I’ll make sure an elevator waits for you, though.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

He nodded and disappeared. She looked over, spotted John by a desk on the far right side, and hurried up to him. He had plonked his bag on the wooden desk, and was in the process of rubbing his hands, a tasked look on his face.

“Well?” she asked. “What do we do?”

“You keep your eyes open. I see what we’re dealing with.” 

He opened the bag and rooted around inside, eventually bringing out a set of candles of all colours. He set them on the edge of the desk at regular intervals, then pulled out his Zippo lighter. He lit all four candles, standing back and raising a hand. He muttered something that Zed didn’t quite hear. He let his hand drop and they waited.

“Well?” she whispered.

“Wait for it.”

She looked around to the office door, then back to the candles. “Well?”

“ _Wait_ for it,” he said, his voice going up in protest. “Bloody hell, you women—”

The left candle wisped out. Then the next. The next one went dark, until the last one burnt brighter, sending black smoke to the ceiling.

“It’s a demon,” John said to himself.

“Is that good?”

“Never.”

The last candle burnt hotter, belching more and more black smoke upwards. Suddenly the flame winked out.

“Bollocks,” he hissed.

“What?”

“It was supposed to tell me the name, or at least give me a clue,” he grumped. He went to the desk and collected up the first three candles, dropping them back in the bag. He rummaged around and produced a plastic bag. He wrapped up the last candle securely, then it too went back in his holdall.

“That’s it?” she asked. “You’re taking it home in a Costco bag? Not very magical,” she teased.

“Plastic seals in a lot of nasty stuff, love,” he said over his shoulder. “Them fancy cloth bags are useless.” He shut the leather bag and lifted it off the desk. “We’re done here. The rest we can do back at the mill house. Let’s get out of here.”

She dug her phone out of her pocket as they walked back to the doors. A lift was waiting for them as promised, and she smiled and got in. John pressed the button for the lobby and they whisked down.

“What do you need the candle for?” she asked.

“It’ll have absorbed a bit of what it found - candle wax is an impressionable thing,” he said. “I should be able to make it give us a name.”

The doors opened and they came out to the lobby. Bradley was waiting around by the front doors, his hands tucked in his belt. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Zed raised her phone and wiggled it. “Yep. Thank you so much, Bradley. You’ve saved my life.”

He smiled, tipping his cap to her as he opened the front door. “No trouble, miss.”

She strode out with a smile, John nodding to the man and following her out. They walked to the pavement and turned right, heading off down the street.

“Why _did_ we park so far away again?” she asked.

“Because if your new admirer Bradley saw you pulling away in that truck, he wouldn’t have believed you’d been here to see the acting replacement head of the company,” he smiled.

“Yeah - he said Elena Ashmore. Do you think she’s in danger?”

“With a demon involved? Hard to say. They’re usually summoned by someone with a grudge - but we don’t know who that might be.”

“You mean it didn’t just appear here by itself?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re always summoned, and it’s always to get revenge, and they always get out of control, and they always go on a killing spree. It’s just a matter of time before it works out a technicality to get free of its master, and then we have dead bodies to look forward to.”

“But you can stop it, right? I mean, you know how these demons work.”

He didn’t look at her. “A bit.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Drive us back to the house, will you?” he said politely, with an amiable smile.

But again, it didn’t touch his eyes.

 

ooOoo

 

John placed his bag on the table, on top of the scrying map. He pulled off his coat and left it over the chair to his right. “Ok then,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Zed walked over and pushed at his shoulder. “Ssshh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yeah, I did,” she whispered. He frowned. She pointed behind her, to Nayda sleeping comfortably on one of the long couches past the bookshelves. “Keep it down.”

He looked back at the table. “We can’t do that if we’re going to get answers from his candle.”

“Then we do it tomorrow,” she said. “It’s nearly one in the morning. It can wait.”

“I’m pretty sure we need to find out who this bastard is—”

“ _Tomorrow_ ,” she stressed. “The candle will still work later, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then go to bed, John. Everyone needs to sleep.”

She turned and walked off toward the staircase. He didn’t move. Halfway up she stopped and looked back. Letting out a monumental huff, she turned and went back to him.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I’m just thinkin’. Of how we do this. You know, _tomorrow_ ,” he said.

She frowned. “Go to bed.”

“That an order?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Yes. You look like death warmed up, John. You have done for days. Chas won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to get into it, but he knows you’re not ok. So I’m telling you to sleep. If he were here right now he’d agree with me.”

“Because it’s that easy,” he said, with enough sarcasm to fill the entire house. “Well, ok then. Far be it for me to argue with Mam and Dad.”

She put her hands to his shoulders, turning him round and walking him to the staircase. “Go.”

“Can I get a drink of water first, Mam?”

“ _Go_ ,” she hissed. “Or Nayda sleeping or not, I will pick you up and throw you up those stairs. And if you _dare_ try to get out of bed before the sun comes up—”

“You’ll what?” he asked, turning to smile at her as if he knew infinitely more than she did. “Tie me to the bed? Oh wait - _you did that_.”

She opened her mouth but nothing would come out. A schism in time and space, a memory hijacking her senses, suddenly she saw his face, contorted and ruined by the demon Pazuzu, screaming insults at her with evil conviction. She forced it from her head, but then it was all she could do to stare, wide eyed and mortified, at his cynical smile.

He shook his head, looking at his shoes. Without even looking up, he put a hand up to her arm, patting. “You win, love,” he muttered. He turned and climbed the steps, his eyes on his feet.

She folded her arms and watched him go. Her head tilted until she heard the faint sound of a wooden door closing. Then she too went up the stairs, determined to find her own room and her own bed.

 

ooOoo

 

Zed came down the stairs to hear voices. When she looked over, she saw John and Nayda sat at the table, tearing into cooked breakfasts, apparently chatting. Nayda appeared perfectly at ease, her eyes seemingly glued to John’s movements. John’s hair was just starting to throw off the dampness weighing it down since presumably a shower, allowing it to begin sticking up, toothbrush-like, in odd crop-circle arrangements. That and his relaxed slouch into the drab blue dressing gown made Zed smile. She heard movement behind her and turned.

“Morning,” Chas grinned. He had a loaded plate in each hand and a tea towel over his left arm. “Hungry?”

“Uh - yeah. Thanks,” she said, a little bemused. She followed him to the table, which had been cleared of everything to be relaid for breakfast. She sat herself down at the end, opposite John. “So… I’m the last one up?”

“Well the first chink of sunlight came through them curtains like a parole hearing through a prison door, and I thought, now’s me chance for escape,” John smiled at her, round a mouthful of bacon. “After that all I could smell was hot food.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Chas laid a full plate of food in front of her and she looked up. “Compliments of the house,” he said quietly. Now she grinned, and he patted her shoulder before going round the table and sitting opposite Nayda.

He picked up his knife and fork and tucked in, as Zed eyed Nayda and her smile that seemed to be for John alone.

“Sorry, love, you were sayin’? The one with the night market?” John asked, shovelling scrambled egg into his mouth.

“That’s the one. You’ve been there?” Nayda asked.

“A few times,” he shrugged. “Bloody freezing, it was. Can’t say I liked it much.”

Nayda smiled. “You have to go in spring.”

“That _was_ spring,” John argued. “Colder than a witch’s tit.” His face dropped and he cleared his throat. “Whoops. Heh,” he managed in uncertainty. “Sorry, pet.”

But Nayda started to laugh - something that surprised both Chas and Zed. She leant back in her chair, one arm on the corner of the backrest. “You’re the first person to make me laugh in a long time.”

“If there’s one thing that never fails to make a bird laugh it’s a naked bloke. You’re welcome,” John said, picking up a huge mug of tea, but his dark eyes stayed on hers.

“John,” Chas sighed, in something close to embarrassment.

“Hey, if that massive lump of sarky metal you call a clothes dryer ever finishes I’ll finally have a fresh shirt,” he protested. “Among other things.”

Chas frowned. “ _Actually_ it’s—”

“Don’t encourage him,” Zed said.

Nayda chuckled, then picked up her coffee. She looked across the table at Chas. “Thanks for this,” she said. “I haven’t had… well, _family_ round a table in… too long.”

John looked up, surprised, but Zed picked up her fork and speared a mushroom from her plate. “That’s us,” she said with amused gusto, “one big _happy_ family.”

“Here, Chas,” John said, sounding hard done by as he waved a fork in the direction of Zed, “do I look old enough to be her uncle?”

“What?” Chas asked, completely blind-sided. “Who’s _whose_ uncle now?”

“Last night she told the security guard I was her uncle. Of all the bloody cheek,” he blustered.

Chas laughed. “Yeah, you do.”

“Charmin’!” John cried. “That’s charmin’s, that is. You wait, love,” he said to Nayda. “Next she’ll be calling Chas her granddad. He won’t be laughing then.”

Nayda laughed, but Zed waved a hand toward Chas. “Now _he_ might pass for my brother.”

“Mutiny,” John sighed, shaking his head.

Nayda put a hand on his arm. “They only wind you up because they _can_ ,” she grinned.

“Only family have a right to,” Chas said grandly.

“Pack it in,” John warned. He picked up a piece of fried bread and used it to clean what was left of the sauce from his plate. He stuffed it in his mouth and then got up, taking his tea mug with him. “I’m getting some of me togs out of the dryer.”

“Already done,” Chas said, his eyes and fork still on his breakfast. “It’s all hanging up in the warm so all the creases fall out.”

“I did wonder how you ironed everything without an actual iron,” John mused as he passed him.

“You’re welcome!” Chas called.

John turned and slapped a hand down on his shoulder. “Thanks _Dad_.”

Chas opened his mouth to retaliate but stopped short as he realised Nayda was still sitting there, a smile on her face. “Go get some clothes on. It’s not decent,” he called.

“The day I ever turn decent is the day I’m too old for all this shit,” John shot back.

“Hey! There are ladies present!” Chas called, turning in his chair to glare at him.

John, drinking from his mug, raised his free hand and stuck two fingers up. Chas shook his head and went back to his plate. He looked up at Nayda, then Zed. “Children,” he said apologetically, as John disappeared somewhere into the house.

“It’s refreshing,” Nayda giggled. “New York can be so stuffy sometimes.”

“Did you only come out here for… this?” Zed asked.

“Yes,” Nayda said. “I asked for help from the spirits, and this is what they sent me.” She looked at her hastily. “Oh. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” she said, waving her off. “John will find out who did this, Nayda. He will.”

“I have every confidence in him.”

Chas looked at Zed. He pushed bacon into his mouth before he picked up his coffee. She said nothing, preferring to attempt the complete demolition of the cooked breakfast still waiting before her.

 

 


	3. THREE

 

 THREE

 

 

John took the plastic-wrapped candle from his bag and set it on the wooden table. Shifting his bag to the floor, he picked up an empty jar. He inspected it before putting it down again. His attention went back to the candle and then he unwrapped it slowly.

Nayda watched from a few feet away. “And this will help us find out who did this? A candle?”

“Should do,” John said, as if to himself. He made sure not to touch it, preferring to keep the plastic between his fingers and the wax. He stood it up and then peered at the burnt wick. Pulling his lighter from his pocket, he flipped it open, considering something.

“What are you waiting for?” Nayda asked.

Zed and Chas, their arms folded as they stood back where they judged it to be slightly safer, shared a glance.

“Does this just give you a name?” Zed asked.

“Yes.” John raised the Zippo, aiming for the wick. He hesitated.

“Nothing else, right?” Zed added. “I mean, nothing else can come out of that candle, can it?”

John closed his eyes and huffed in irritation. “No,” he said firmly. “Stop interrupting, will you?”

Zed looked at Chas. He shrugged. She turned back to watch.

John flicked the lighter. He watched the spark, the flame, the wick catch and dance. He dropped the Zippo to the table and picked up the empty jar, studying the smoke. “Creatures of the underworld, lords of the garrisons, servants of the Fallen, I speak to you,” he said aloud.

Nayda took a step back.

“Show me what was,” he demanded. “Show me whose presence you captured. Show me whom I seek.” 

The candle burnt brighter. The smoke curling up toward the ceiling turned black. It whipped and fought, struggled and flipped.

John held the jar upside down over the top and watched the darkness float upward, into the open mouth. He waited, something making him shift his weight from one foot to the other, as it steadily filled.

“Come on, come on,” he hissed. “Bastard!” He slammed the jar onto the table. Nayda flinched a whole two feet backwards. John stood, nursing his wrist. He blew the candle out hastily. He flexed his hand, not looking at it as he eyed the black smoke that filled the upside down jar.

Zed came up to his side, watching it. “You ok?”

“Got a bit hot, that’s all,” he said. “Cheeky bugger’s not going to make it easy.” He went to his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it under the jar and then waited, his hands on the table either side of it.

It was silent for a long moment.

He pulled the paper back out carefully, keeping the jar tight against the table. He lifted the paper to the light above him, peering at it.

“Anything?” Zed dared.

“Not a bloody thing,” he heaved. “It’s in there. I just can’t get it out.”

“What do you mean, it’s in there?” Nayda asked. “The thing that killed Roberta?”

“I mean whatever it was that the candle captured, some tiny part of it is inside that smoke,” John said. “It’s not playing fair - this is supposed to draw it out, give me a sigil that leads to the name of the entity - _something_. It’s just refusing to co-operate.” He huffed, putting the paper on the table and glaring at it.

“Isn’t there some other way?” Chas asked, coming to the table. “I mean… So the paper doesn’t work. It won’t mark it, right? But will it mark something else?”

John looked at his right forearm. He lifted it, rubbing it absently with his other hand. “Oh it’ll mark something else alright.” He put his hand out for the jar.

Zed grabbed his left wrist. “Stop.”

“Let go.”

“John - _stop_ ,” she urged. “You think you’re going to let that thing touch your arm? Where Pazuzu burnt his mark into you? Don’t you dare.”

His face twisted into one of anger. “How else do we find this thing?”

“ _Pendejo_ ,” she accused.

He pulled his wrist free but it was to point at her. “I know what that means, too.”

“You can’t do this, John,” Chas said from behind her.

“Oh here we go,” John sneered, his head tilting. “Daddy’s found his trousers now Mam’s started up.” 

“John,” Nayda said quietly. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but… I think you should listen to them.”

John closed his eyes, lifted his chin and jerked it to the right, and then let out a long breath. He released the jar and put his hands in his pockets. “Fine,” he snapped. “So how _do_ we get the name out?” he demanded, turning to the room at large. “Which one of you _experienced mages_ knows the right words, the right arguments to do the hocus-pocus and ride on in there and show it who’s boss? Eh?” He looked around at them all. “This isn’t something you can just—”

Zed lifted her palm. “I’ll do it.”

“What? No,” Chas said hastily.

“Absolutely not,” John said. “You are off your head if you think you’re putting your hand anywhere near that.”

“I can do this,” she warned, her face dark.

“ _Can_ you, Zed?” John argued. “That’s a _demon_ in there - part of one. Once you touch that you’ll feel what it felt, you’ll see what it saw - _as it was killing a human being_. Trust me, that is not a clean feeling and you will never, _ever_ wash it off!”

She stepped up to him, shoving her face into his. “I’m not afraid.”

“You bloody well should be!” he shouted back. She didn’t even blink. “It’s not like the movies, love! That thing will use you to amuse itself - you’ll be one giant playground, only the rides will be your self-respect and your hope, and it’ll be eating _soul_ , not popcorn!”

“It’s only _part_ of a demon,” she shot back, with just as much anger. “And I’ve met worse,” she added. He stared at her, lips pursed as if afraid to open again, the full force of his anger flooding out toward her in waves. She let it flow over her, until she realised it wasn’t just anger - it was desperation. 

“I am not letting you do this,” John growled.

“You don’t decide for me,” she said, making her anger settle. “Tell me you have another way, John.”

He put his hands on his hips, glaring. 

She lifted her chin. “You don’t, do you?”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth sealed shut, something rolled around his head as it tilted at her in futile rage.

“You don’t,” she said quietly. “So stand aside. I can do this.”

“No,” Chas said suddenly.

Zed didn’t move, but John turned his head to look at him. “Will you talk some sense into—. Oh sodding _hell_.”

The room was suddenly a lifelike painting, as if one of Zed’z pictures had been turned 3D; Nayda was stock-still, looking concerned, one hand over her mouth. Zed was angry, her eyes piercing the thin air where John’s head had been. Chas was frozen in the act of lifting a hand to argue.

And next to him was Manny, quietly smiling angel that he was. He had his hands folded in front of him, watching John with his unusual eyes.

“Oh what do _you_ want?” John grumped.

Manny smiled as he opened his hands in surrender. “What are we fighting today, John? Demons? Evil creatures? The First of the Fallen, even? Or friends?” he asked. John spun away from the table, his hands on his hips, to shake his head. Manny walked up to Zed. “Your friend, here,” he added, as he appraised her face. “She’s committed. She’s dedicated. She’s truly serious about this.”

“She _should_ be committed if she’s seriously thinking about sticking her hand in that bloody jar,” John grumbled.

“Not the jar, John,” he said, turning to look at him. “To this… this _life_ she has here.”

“You call this a life?”

“In comparison.”

“To what?”

Manny clasped his hands, pointing both index fingers at him. “I’ll let you think about that.”

John went to the iron staircase, sitting on the penultimate step. “You’re not helping.”

“She’s trying to. But you won’t let her.”

“Because she has no idea what she’s getting herself into,” he shot back. “And you shouldn’t be encouraging her.”

“Strictly speaking, I’m not doing anything,” Manny smiled. He waited, but John ran a hand through his hair, grumbling to himself. Manny walked over and crouched in front of him, getting John’s angry eyes in return. “You should have seen her, John. When your friend was exorcising you. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. She was going to see it through to the end.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“You heard her - you don’t get to decide for her,” Manny said. “If you did, she wouldn’t be here at all, would she? You’d chase her away, just like everyone else.”

John’s expression turned resentful. He looked over at the crowd of frozen people. “Chas would still be here.”

“No, John, he wouldn’t,” Manny said, straightening up again. “You would have sent him home to his wife, and his daughter, and then you’d get yourself killed.”

“You can’t kill me; I’m already dead,” he mused, under his breath.

Manny tilted his head at him. “Is that so. And yet you try to protect _her_ from anything and everything. Why is that, John? Is she the win to make up for all your other failures?”

John glared at him. “Oh sod off. Aren’t there some prayers you need to answer somewhere?”

“Who says I’m not,” he shrugged.

“You want me to let her do this.”

“I want you to realise you _don’t_ control everyone, John.”

“Me? I’ve never controlled a bloody thing.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it,” Manny smiled. “Let her help you, John. You know…” He twisted to look round at Nayda, “I’ve heard it said that the ladies like it when you’re not too big to ask for help.”

John grinned at his shoes suddenly, a wry, cynical approximation. “You are one manipulation away from being a demon, do you know that?”

“What? Who is?” Chas asked. He looked around, then turned and caught sight of John on the far steps. “How did you get over there?”

John stood up, much to the surprise of Nayda and Zed. He looked at the younger woman. “It looks like… and I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I _do_ need your help, Zed. So go on then,” he said wearily. “Fill your boots.”

“Manny?” she guessed. “Was he here?”

He nodded. “So go on. Just… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What just happened?” Nayda asked.

Zed looked at her. “Don’t ask.” She put her hands to the table and leant over the jar to peer in through the base. “So I just pick this up and put my hand in the smoke, right?”

“Right,” John said. His hands went back into his pockets and wandered up to the table. “Chas, Nayda - stay back. If anything gets in, she won’t know her own strength.”

“Then it makes sense if _I_ help her,” Chas said.

“Except you’ve never been possessed,” John said ruefully. “I’ll stay with her. You two - give us some space, yeah? We don’t know how much of the presence is still in that smoke.”

Chas put a hand to Nayda’s arm. He pulled but she stood her ground. “You be careful, you two,” she urged. Then she let herself be guided back, putting a good ten feet between them and the table.

Zed put her hand on the jar. John stood next to her. “You know,” he breathed, for her ears only, “it’s not too late to back out of this.”

“No way,” she said stiffly. “This killed somebody.”

“Exactly.” He paused. “Even I don’t know how much of that demon’s imprint, or will, got caught in the smoke. There may just be an impression of it in there. But if it’s not…” He sniffed in discomfort. “If there’s a part of it in there… Once you get in, it’ll try to get into _you_. Don’t let it. If it does get in, _you’ll_ have to get it out. We won’t be able to help you.”

“I understand.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, then shook his head. “Fine.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she whisked the jar up a few inches. She kept it upside down, watching the smoke swirl around inside. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and slid her fingers up into the jar.

There was the tiniest click, like a spark of static. She cried out and dropped the vessel. John scrambled to catch it and set it down on the table again, safely upside down. He held it still, turning to watch her.

She straightened up and looked at him. Her gaze went to her hand, then back to him. Her face began to morph into shock - and then horror. “Oh my god…”

“Zed - _Zed_ ,” he snapped. “Focus on you. Make it your enemy. It is _not_ on your side.”

“It’s - it’s - horrible,” she whispered, her eyes wide and glazed. “So… much… pain.”

“ _Zed!_ ” he shouted into her face. “It’s not you! That’s not your pain! It’s _nothing_. It’s nothing compared to you! Do you understand me!”

“Help her,” Nayda whispered. She took a step forward.

Chas grabbed her by the arms and kept her by his side. “We can’t.”

Zed’s breathing sped up. She looked upward, starting to shake. “I can feel it,” she whimpered. “I can feel it. Oh it hurts - John - it’s in so much pain - someone - someone - trapped it inside its own pain—”

“What is it, Zed?” he demanded. 

“Help it, John,” she whimpered. “Help it!”

“What is it? Can you see a name?”

“You!” she cried. “You tell me! You tell me your name!” She shook harder. She put her hands to her head. “You tell me!” she shouted.

“Poor child - make it stop!” Nayda cried angrily. Chas pulled her back.

“ _Ngghh_ \- you tell me!” Zed shouted. Her hands dropped and she looked straight up. “Irrucaynya!” she railed. “Irrucaynya!”

She shook. And then she began to scream.

John grabbed her shoulders. “Zed!” he shouted. “Zed! That’s not you! It’s making you think it is - but it’s not you! Come on, Zed!”

She screamed and began to claw at his arms.

Nayda started forward. Chas refused to let her move closer.

“Zed!” John raged. He let go of her shoulders only to catch her wrists. “I bloody told you this would happen!” he heaved. She snarled and screamed at him. “Demon Irrucaynya I address you!” he shouted. “You have no power over this body! Leave and never return!”

Zed screamed. Her hands opened and closed, desperate to dig into his flesh.

“Demon Irrucaynya! Leave this vessel and return to your master! You have no claim on this body!” he shouted.

She hissed and clawed for him.

“Oh, love,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry. Forgive me later; I need to make you cast it out.” He lifted a hand and simply slapped her across the face.

She snarled and growled. She ripped free of him. Her head snapped back as she screamed in rage. A vague shadow of smoke lifted from her head. It floated up into the rafters, swirling around in angry intent.

John stretched a hand up toward it. “ _Vade, Satana!_ ” he shouted. “ _Inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis! Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt!_ ” He ran out of breath and had to haul in more. “Sod off and die!”

The smoke writhed and sparked blue. It burst into blue flame - as did the smoke in the jar, causing it to crack and let the flames lick upwards to join the raging lights in the rafters. Abruptly it disappeared.

John looked over at Zed. She was sitting up but in a ball, shivering. He hurried over and landed on one knee. He turned her round, guided her to sit against his front. She gasped in air and tightened up.

“Easy, love,” he breathed, keeping an arm round her, smoothing her hair free of her face. She began to relax into him, her breathing less ragged and more desperate. “Easy. You’re alright,” he said softly. She moved her head to rest against his shirt. He put his hand up and kept her there.

She swallowed. One hand unclenched and went to the white cotton over his chest. It hung on.

Nayda broke free of Chas and ran over. “Is she ok?” she demanded.

Chas followed her and crouched, not too closely, studying Zed’s wild, frightened eyes. “Is she?”

“Get her a drink, yeah?” John said. “Something a bit stronger than water.”

Chas got up. Nayda stared. She turned her back, pressing her hands together as she wandered away.

Zed turned, pushing into John’s shirt. “Next time,” she whispered, “maybe I _will_ let you do it.”

He grinned over her head. “Next time we don’t take the case.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?”

He smiled. “Can you get up?”

“ _Diablo rubio_ ,” she tutted.

“Hey - and I know what that means, an’ all,” he warned.

She smiled, letting go of his shirt. He helped her to her feet, but then she eased him away from her gently. She wrapped her cardigan more warmly round herself. “I need to… be somewhere else.”

“Give yourself the rest of the day off,” he nodded. Chas appeared with a glass filled with something dark tan that had lumps of ice in it. “I swear I have no idea where you keep all the good stuff,” John remarked.

Chas glared at him, then handed it to Zed. “You ok to get upstairs?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll - I’ll be fine,” she nodded. She took the glass and went to the staircase. 

Nayda was waiting by the bottom. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Zed waved a hand at her. “Oh no, don’t be,” she blustered. “It’s done.” She carried on up the steps.

Chas looked at John, then back at the table with the broken jar. “Well. She got a name.”

“She did,” he nodded. He went over to the books on the shelves, searching spines. “Irrucaynya,” he said to himself, over and over, until he found a rather heavy looking tome. He pulled it out and hefted it to the table. Unclasping the two large brass catches on the cover, he eased it open to start skim-reading pages.

“Will she be alright?” Nayda asked quietly, coming to the table.

“Oh she’s tough as old boots, that one. All I had to do was make her angry and she kicked it out herself,” John said, pre-occupied. “A skinful of Chas’ best whisky and a bit of downtime will see her right.”

“I’ll check on her later though,” Chas warned him.

“If you think you need to,” John said, surprised. He peered at the book. “Now then. Irrucaynya sounds a little… South American. What do you reckon?”

“What is that book?” Nayda asked.

“It’s a directory of demons and who they serve,” John said as his finger started to run down a long list on the left of the page. He reached the bottom and started again on the other side. When that ran out, he tried the next page.

“Maybe it doesn’t serve anyone,” Chas said. “Maybe it’s a free agent.”

“Even if it is, it started somewhere,” John mused. “If we can find out what kind of demon it is, then we’ll know how someone came across its name to summon it in the first place - and then _we_ can summon it.”

“Summon it here? Are you crazy?” Chas argued.

“Chas,” John said, straightening up. “Right now it’s being led around by its nose by some human who thinks they’ve got control of it - but they really haven’t. As soon as it breaks free and bodies start piling up, _that’s_ when we bind it and bring it to us.”

“You’re not going to just wait for it to start killing people, are you?” Nayda gasped.

“Of course not,” John sighed. “But having a binding spell prepared for such an eventuality is a good thing, right?”

“Oh. I see,” she said, casting her eyes to the table. “Sorry.”

John considered her for a moment. Then he bent over the book again to scan the lists. “Chas… Can you look into the people at Moors Incorporated? Someone at that company wanted poor Roberta dead, and I’m willing to bet it was someone on that floor. And see if you can’t find out who this mysterious friend is with the ouija board.”

“I’ll get started - as long as you gave a fresh offering to the wi-fi gods this morning?”

“Yes, I paid the electric bill,” John sighed. “Shock horror; Tufty here remembered.”

“Then I’ll go start digging.” Chas nodded to Nayda and walked off.

She sat at the table, watching John for a long moment. “You have a hard life here, don’t you?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, it’s terrible having Chas cook and look after the place for me.”

She smiled. “This is a normal Wednesday for you, isn’t it?”

“If you think this is wild you should stick around for Friday nights. Things really get lairy.”

She chuckled. “Ah, John. Everything is a source of amusement for you, isn’t it?”

“What else is there,” he muttered.

Her smile shrank. “If I had known it was going to be like this, I—”

“You didn’t,” he said shortly, straightening up and looking her in the eye. “No-one ever does. I tell people till I’m blue in the face but people just plough on in there anyway.”

She got up, coming round the table and putting a hand on his arm. “You’re this whirling aura of buried rage and… and depressed cynicism… for some reason you don’t have to tell me.” She paused. “But thank you. I do trust you, John. I do believe you can find this creature and kill it. I’m sorry that I’ve brought this to you, but… I need you to finish this.”

“Oh I’ll finish it alright.”

“You haven’t even asked…” She paused, looking down at his hand by the book. “Well… you haven’t even asked about payment.”

“We don’t normally work in dollar values, love,” he said with a smile. “We’re more concerned with souls than money.”

“That I can see,” she said. She stole closer to him. “But I am very grateful. If there’s a way I can show you my appreciation for the way you do things…”

“Are we still talking money?”

She smiled up at him. “No.”

“Oh.”

She stretched a hand up and smoothed it across his cheek, holding him still while she pressed a kiss into his other one. “Find this demon.” She let her hand drop and turned to go. “You don’t need me here.”

“Uh - actually…”

She stopped and looked back at him. “Yes?”

“There is _one_ thing I need you for.”

“Name it,” she smiled.

  

ooOoo

 

 Chas picked up his jacket from over the back of the sofa, looking around. “John?” he called. “Are we doing this or what?” Nothing answered him and he shook his head, heading over to the kitchen area. It was empty, prompting him to turn back and try the entire floor. His head went up and he let a few ideas go through his head.

He went to the iron stairs and up, going along the wooden landing until he came to doors. He straightened his back and went straight to the one door that was partially open. His hand came up to knock on it.

And then it stopped dead. He heard a shuffle and then a grunt - definitely belonging to a man. It had just the kind of desperate need to it that clearly marked it as a noise only John Constantine could make. Chas frowned.

A huff of air and a thump. “Can’t - keep - up,” Nayda puffed.

“Yes you - _can_ ,” John grunted.

“ _Ngghh_ \- got to - got to - got to _stop_.”

“Not yet!”

“Nearly there?”

“Close.”

“How - close?”

“Very!” John panted. “Just - keep - _ngghh_ \- going!”

Chas’ eyes rolled. He looked at his watch. He shook his head, ignoring the noises behind the door. He stood tall and simply banged his fist on the door.

“Wait!” John growled.

“You got this?” she asked.

“I need you to - keep—”

“Come in!” Nayda called.

The door swung open. Chas clamped his eyes shut hastily. He heard a giggle and opened one eye.

Nayda was standing in front of him, one hand on the inner door knob. Behind her was a round table, which was currently hosting a large stone bowl and a gigantic pestle. This was being pounded round and round at furious speed by a harassed looking John.

“I’m nearly done!” John protested. “Bloody hell, mate. Just a few more minutes.”

Chas managed to unglue his other eye - and then his mouth. “Oh. Ok. —What are you doing?”

“Grinding this jorlanntay root Nayda’s had with her. It’s good for - for - _ngghh_ \- adding to protection dust. Never know when - when I might need it,” he grunted. “I’m seriously considering using your food blender next time.” His hands stopped and fell from the pestle, more to allow him to wipe his forehead than anything else. He caught sight of Chas’ discomfort and paused. “What did you _think_ I was doing?”

Chas’ mouth worked. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Look, we’re all ready downstairs, so—”

“So I’ll be down in a minute,” John said. He looked at Nayda. “Get your stuff together, love. We’re shipping out.”

She smiled and then twirled out of the room, leaving Chas to watch the way John’s eyes followed her.

“Hey,” Chas said.

John blinked and straightened up to look at him. “What?”

“Just… let’s not lose focus here, alright?”

“No clue what you’re talking about, Chas. Get your car keys.”

“Right.” He turned and whisked out of the door.

John looked down at the powder in the bowl. He bent over, sniffed at it, and then nodded to himself. His hand went to his coat on the table and he picked it up, going out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

 

 


	4. FOUR

 

 

 

Zed came down the staircase slowly, her hand flowing over the rail, to land at the bottom and find the house empty. A stroll took her past the bookshelves and odd accoutrements to the door at the end. She noticed it was slightly ajar and pulled it open another inch until she was looking down the long corridor. She leant on the doorjamb.

“John!” she called. “Chas!”

Nothing replied. She closed the door to the corridor and went back to the table, before noticing a piece of paper folded in half to sit up on top. She went over and picked it up, finding spidery writing in the middle of it.

“Sorry love, we popped out for milk, if milk is locating someone who could have conjured up a six legged demon called Irrucaynya,” she read, failing not to smile. “Do yourself a favour and let the house look after you. Put your feet up. Don’t draw. We’ll be back soon. JC.” She noticed more words at the bottom. “Not Jesus Christ. The other JC.”

She grinned and carried the paper with her to the mirror over the fireplace. She stared into it for a moment, then looked back down at the paper in her hand. When she looked up, Chas was packing a bag behind her, talking silently at someone.

She whirled but the room was empty, save herself. “Right,” she said cautiously, looking back into the mirror. “So… _you’re_ the mirror that shows what was. John’s talked about you.” Chas moved out of shot, and the glass showed nothing but the front room. “Well. If I can’t draw that leaves TV. Wait - does this place even _have_ a TV?”

 

ooOoo

 

Chas stopped the cab opposite the shiny skyscraper entitled ‘Moors Incorporated’. “Here we are. What’s the plan?”

John pulled the notebook from the dashboard and read back through the top few pages. “Well from the looks of all this you found on them workers in there, only three would have had a point to getting something like Irrucaynya to do their dirty work.”

“So you’re just going to go in there and ask?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” John nodded cheerfully.

Chas rolled his eyes. “You want me to come with you?”

John looked across the front seat at him. “Nah. I can handle this one.”

“So I just go back to the Motel 6 and babysit Nayda the white witch, while you go in there and interrogate people?”

John offered him a wry smile. “Something tells me that woman doesn’t need babysitting.” He paused. “Although… you could check on Zed. Knowing her she’s using her ‘recovery’ time to do something very relaxing - like arm-wrestle alligators.”

Chas smiled. “Probably.” He paused. “What time do you want picking up?”

“I’ll make my own way back,” John said. “Could do with a walk and a think.”

“Suit yourself. I know you’ll walk two blocks, get out of breath, and call me for a ride anyway.”

“Alright, Sassy Bollocks,” John grumbled. He slid out of the car, reaching back to heave his large bag with him. He shut the door before checking the traffic and scooting across two lanes of idly moving cars. Chas watched until he had made it safely to the other side, and then started up the cab. He waited for a gap in the traffic and pulled away to head back to the mill house.

John reached the front doors to Moors Incorporated and pulled one open, striding inside. As he caught sight of the security guard on the desk, he felt in his trouser pocket, fishing around. He stopped in front of him. “Morning,” he said cheerfully.

The man behind the desk, shorter and darker than Bradley, looked up. “Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?”

John smiled and produced a playing card, the nine of diamonds, from his pocket. “John Constantine. I’m here to see a few people about their future.” He flourished the playing card with a graceful twitch of his fingers.

The guard looked at it. “Vertigo Communications Limited,” he read out. “Whoa. Yeah, sure. Do you have appointments?”

“Not at all. Kind of a surprise visit, you know. Catch ‘em in the act, so to speak,” John smiled. “Could you tell me where I could find…” He pulled Chas’ notebook from his coat pocket to read the top page, “uh… Elena Ashmore, Heather Cremello, and… Dianne Tell?”

“Oh sure. They’re all on the same floor - the top. They should all be in Ms Moors’ - oh… uh… I mean Miss Ashmore’s team.”

John perched an elbow on the counter top. “So Miss Ashmore’s the acting replacement head, right?”

“Yes sir. I hear there’s a formal vote by the partners next week, then they’ll decide if she’s in the chair permanently. Oh - unless you give her a better offer.”

John smiled. “You never know, eh. Top floor?”

“Top floor, sir.”

“Cheers, mate.” John tapped the counter and walked off toward the lifts.

 

ooOoo

 

Chas walked in the front door, pocketing his cab keys. He went along the landing to the iron steps. “Zed?” he called. He whisked down them to find her sprawled out on a sofa, her head and toes bopping along to some silent beat. He came around the side of the couch and waved a hand at her. “Zed?”

She gasped and sat up, pulling earbuds from somewhere under her hair. “Hey. That was fast. So who’s our bad guy?”

He threw his hands out. “I don’t know. We dropped Nayda off at a Motel 6, and then I left John at the Moors office building. Now we wait.”

“What?” she asked, her face going dark. “I thought we agreed, Chas - we keep an eye on him.”

“Zed, it’s an office, and it’s the middle of the day,” he said. “What trouble could he get into in there?”

“Don’t ask things like that.” She got up slowly. “I thought Nayda was staying here with us.”

“She wanted some privacy. I think she’s lived alone for a while.”

“You mean you left her at a motel and John on his own?” she said clearly.

“Yeah, why?”

“You didn’t get that whole ‘let’s forget breakfast and make out’ vibe she was broadcasting John at the table earlier?” she said sarcastically.

“Must be a psychic thing - I didn’t notice,” he shrugged. “But earlier when I found John making up some powder or something…”

“What?” she asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said.

“So what’s John supposed to be doing at the office, anyway?”

“Somehow he’s going to question all three suspects and see if any of them had reason or resources to summon this demon.”

She folded her arms. “We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Hey, if he’s gone there to interview three women then it’s _them_ I feel sorry for.”

She thought it over, then shook her head. “What can we do while we wait?”

He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “I noted down the names of the women he’s gone to see,” he said. “If I show you a picture of them, is there any way you can get an impression of them?”

“I can try,” she shrugged.

“You know… John said not to ask you - not after what happened earlier.”

“Yeah? Well John’s going to need our help. We just won’t tell him,” she said, taking the paper from him. “Find me the photos. I need to touch them.”

He went round her and walked off, heading deeper into the house.

 

ooOoo

 

John pushed on the smoked glass door, poking his head round the edge. He found the open plan office a hive of activity, with cubicles buzzing away, heads moving to and fro, voices carrying from headsets. He noticed a man sitting not ten feet from him, in the nearest cubicle. “Oh, hello, mate,” he said with his best smile. “I’m looking for Elena Ashmore.”

The man looked up from his desk. His eyes ran down and then up him before his nose wrinkled ever so slightly. “She doesn’t talk to salesmen,” he said, then went back to his computer keyboard.

John hefted the handle of the bag in his hand. He walked into the office, letting the door shut behind him, and held his nine of diamonds up at him. “Neither do I.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Vertigo Communications? —Sorry, Mr… Constantine.” Hhe looked at John. “I’ll show you to her desk. It’s a bit muddled in here right now.”

“I can understand that,” he said, pocketing the card.

They wended their way through desks arranged in fours, partitioned from each other. People stopped to look at John, who started out nodding but ended up giving little cheery waves to the nosy staff they passed.

The man stopped in front of the large wooden desk at the top of the room. John looked round him and down at the blonde woman currently attempting to juggle a phone on one shoulder and a pen and sheets of paper in her hands.

“Well I don’t give a rat’s ass for your haulage problems - you assured me it would be there today. You _charged_ me for delivery today, so you better goddamn get it there _today_.” She put the phone down rather firmly.

“Steady love,” John said with winning smile. “You’ve got a bit of smoke coming out of your ears.”

She looked up at him. She took a deep breath, let it all stream out slowly, and then set down the pen from her right hand. “Good morning,” she said, forcing a smile. “How can I help you?” She nodded to the man, who turned and disappeared back into the hubbub of work blanketing the room.

John dropped his bag to the carpet and let his hand slide into his pocket. “I’m here to talk about your future.”

“I already own a Chevrolet,” she sighed. “It’s two years old, and no, I’m not looking to upgrade.”

He grinned. “You misunderstand me, love.” He pulled the card from his trousers and held it out for her to read.

She blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just—. Well. How rude of me. Please, take a seat.” She watched him retrieve the wooden chair off to one side and lift it to be right in front of her desk. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Tea, if you’ve got it - and do us a favour and take the bag out,” he said, plonking himself on the seat.

“Oh-kay,” she said, about as lost as a koala at a hotdog-eating contest. She reached forward and picked up the phone again, pressing the lower key on the speed-dial.

John watched as she spoke, his eyes running over her blonde hair, the new suit, the anger that covered nerves, the nails that were a bit too short for comfort - and the name plate that read ‘Elena Ashmore, Acting Director’.

She put the phone down. “Tea is on its way, Mr…?”

“Constantine,” he beamed. “There’s been a bit of change around here this week, then.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. Her eyes went to the desk guiltily. “My boss - uh - Ms Moors. She passed away. I was asked to fill in for her until they appoint the new boss.”

“From what I hear, that might be you.”

She flicked her gaze up to him. “Possibly,” she said, with some listlessness. 

John’s eyes narrowed. “How long did you work under Ms Moors?”

“Five years. I was with her at her old place, in New York. She moved out here and a year later, she asked me to come too. She created a role for me here.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Well… yes, I suppose.”

John leant back in the chair, lifting his left shoe to balance on his knee. “Are you sure?”

She smiled slightly. “It’s just that… we worked at the same place in New York - I was actually slightly higher than her, and I have more Masters degrees.”

“Oooh, love. Don’t tell me you were passed over, and she took your promotion?”

Elena opened her mouth but then paused as a man approached. He nodded to John, setting down a very nice cup and saucer on the table by him. “Sugar, sir?” he asked.

“No, you’re alright,” he nodded. “Thanks.”

The man nodded and retreated. John looked back at Elena. “So. You’re better qualified.”

Elena eyed him, then waited as he picked the cup out of the saucer. “It was all her father’s work,” she said. “Ms Moors didn’t really… do much. To get all this,” she said quietly. “Don’t get me wrong - I _loved_ working with her and I really appreciated the change. I like Atlanta. It’s certainly _not_ New York.” She paused. “Sorry - what’s the purpose of your visit today?”

“Well my crew are looking around for a few people,” he shrugged. “We’ve seen how your company’s doin’ - sorry to hear about Ms Moors, though.” He sipped the tea and found it surprisingly good.

“You’re head-hunters? And you came to talk to me?” she asked, straightening up slightly.

“Yes I did. I do have two more people to talk to,” he said, his hand going inside his coat to pull the notebook out. “Uh… Heather Cremello and Dianne Tell.”

“Ah. Heather Cremello works in the next office, now. She’s been made head of HR. Dianne Tell is on sabbatical,” she said. “Brazil, would you believe.”

“Oh really,” John said. “Shame. We’re working on something connected to South America right now. How long has she been gone?”

“She has six months, Mr Constantine. She went straight after Christmas - won’t be back until the end of May.”

“Ah, well. That’s her off the list, then,” he said, pushing the book back into his trenchcoat. “Tell the truth,” he said, “this is just a preliminary round. If I could use your phone I could get my office to set up a proper appointment with you. One of my colleagues could come by and have a proper chat.”

“Of course, yes,” she said, pushing her chair back from the desk. “Please, help yourself.”

“Ta, love.” He got up and went to the black phone on the corner. He picked it up and she reached over and pressed a key. He smiled his thanks and dialled, making sure he got a good mouthful of tea as he listened to the line connect.

 

ooOoo

 

Zed opened the newspaper article and spread it out on the table. She sat down and brought over the three names, as Chas stood over her from the opposite side. 

“No funny business,” he warned. “At the first sign of trouble I’m pulling you out.”

“I’ll be ok,” she said. She placed one hand on the newspaper picture of Roberta Moors.

“I know - because I’ll be _here_ to pull you out,” he said firmly. He folded his arms and watched.

She smiled before she shook her head and reached for the list of names. “I can see why John likes having you around.”

“Yeah well. That’s a debt we won’t go into.”

She closed her eyes and put her hand on the list. She waited.

Chas let his weight shift from one foot to the other. He waited completely impatiently, glaring, hanging on her every muscle twitch. The memory of her tortured face kept clouding his vision, but he concentrated on the here and now.

Zed lifted her chin slowly. Her eyes didn’t open but she smiled. “I see… a field. Clean.” Her head tilted. “There’s a … horse. A white one. It’s so beautiful…”

Chas relaxed somewhat. “Horses are good. What does it mean?”

“It’s just walking with… there are more. There are more horses - brown ones, a black one… lots of horses,” she smiled. Her face began to drop. “Oh.”

“What?”

“The white one - taller. It’s not… It’s - oh!” she chirped, shocked.

He raced round the table to her side. “What, Zed?”

“It kicked the other horse! It kicked it!” She gasped in fear. “No! No! It’s biting—”

Chas grasped her wrists and yanked them both from the pictures. “Stop.”

Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him, still reaching across her, both hands on her forearms. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He let her go. “No problem.” He paused to assess how shaken she was, but she tossed her hair over her shoulder and shuffled all the papers into one neat pile on the table. “So… it has something to do with horses?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. She got up. “I need some water, and you should probably call John.”

An old fashioned long telephone bell filled the air. She folded her arms and looked at him. He felt the vibration in his pocket. He got his phone out and opened it up. “John,” he grinned. “We were just talking about you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What? Oh, I get it… Yes, _Mr_ Constantine,” he said sarcastically. “Elena Ashmore?” He looked at Zed. She picked up the list and gave it to him. Chas read down slowly. “Uh… no connections to South America. No family outside of New York… uh… No. What did you get from her? Did you ask for her number, and did she punch you in the face? Please tell me there’s actual damage I can see.”

Zed raised her eyebrows, but she heard a voice buzzing from the phone and decided to wait them out.

 

ooOoo

 

John smiled as his eyes roamed Elena’s desk. “No, Mr Chandler, she did not and no there isn’t,” he said clearly. Elena began to close folders and files on the desk in front of him. “Right,” he said into the phone, his gaze landing on picture frames standing to one side, with a man with her arm round Elena, next to a tall sandy coloured horse. “Anything else I should know?” he asked. “You let her do _what?_ ”

Elena looked up, spooked.

He turned to smile at her quickly, then swayed round to put his back to her. “What did I tell you, _Mr_ Chandler, about not letting her - _work_ \- till I got back?” He huffed. “I don’t care if she’s got the bastard’s address and phone number, you shouldn’t have let her—.” Another huff. “You daft sod. Just you wait till I get back. You want your heads examined, the pair of you.” He moved the phone to his other ear. “Go on then. Might as well - don’t want all her _hard_ and _unnecessary_ work to go to waste, now do we?” he grumbled. “She saw what? A white one?” He turned and his eyes went casually across Elena’s desk again - to the photos. “Right, yeah. Got it. I’ll get back to work. You make sure she does _not_ until I’m in the room, or you’re both _sacked_.” He put the receiver back on the phone, then sank the rest of his tea. He realised she was watching him and turned a smile on her. “Sorry about that, love. Office politics, you know how it is.”

“Of course,” she said.

“So, uh… I should be off.” He went around the desk and set the cup back down in its saucer.

“Oh, so soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll have my people sort an appointment for them to come down and see you. Just to see how much you like it here, and whether you want to leave all this and be a part of something bigger.”

She smiled, but there was no excitement in it. “Ok, yes.”

He picked up his bag. “Nice to meet you, love.”

“And you, Mr Constantine,” she said, rising from her chair.

“Oh, quick question,” he said suddenly. “You wouldn’t know where to go riding round here, would you? A friend of mine - she likes horses. She’s always asking if there’s a school or something nearby.”

“Oh, ah… Well, I do enjoy a ride every now and again,” she said.

“I’ll bet,” he said, his eyes struggling not to laugh but the rest of his face suspiciously innocent.

“Oh yes - an ex-boyfriend and I used to go once a month, back in New York. We hit a bad patch and that was a day out that was all about us. When we split up, I just… carried on going. Once I moved out here, Ms Moors put me in touch with a local place.” She looked at her desk. “I have a card for the school, somewhere.”

“Well, there’s no rush, love. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again at some point.”

“Ok then.”

He put his hand out. She looked at it and they shook firmly, across the desk.

“I’ll see meself out. Ta-ra now,” he said cheerfully. He put his hand straight in his pocket and turned on his heel, disappearing into the throng of noise and desks like sugar in hot tea.

Elena blinked, shook her head, and sat down again.

John emerged from the office door, going to the lifts and pressing the button. He took his hand out and looked at the palm for a long moment, his face pinched into an expression of worry. 

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. He got in and was whisked down.

 

ooOoo

 

“One more channel and then I give up,” Nayda sighed, pressing the button on the TV remote. It duly flicked over to yet another late afternoon crapfest and she sighed. She muted it and tossed the remote to the bed next to her. Her eyes went around the motel room, until she got up and went to her bag on the chair by the window. She rooted around inside. Her hand connected with a book and she smiled, about to pull on it.

Something rapped on the window right by her face. She jumped back and stared. A large blur was waving at her. Pulling back the thin curtain, she found John looking back at her, a bag in one hand and his trenchcoat in the other. “What _are_ you doing out there?” she asked. She unlatched the window and hauled it right up.

“Getting in,” he said, lifting a foot to the window sill. 

She stood back, appalled, as he climbed in through the window. His boots hit the carpet and she was just about to open her mouth to protest when he turned and leant back out to grab at something. Her eyes wandered the seat of his trousers and something made her smile.

He straightened up again to pull his bag and his coat inside. He dropped them to the floor and closed the window carefully. “Right,” he said, peering at his right hand.

She waited, her arms folded. “And what’s wrong with the front entrance?”

“CCTV, love. They might remember me here.”

“What for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“There was this… thing. With a banshee and a ghoul - I was the ghoul.” He waved a hand suddenly. “It was a while ago. But then I’ve been recognised by staff before. Didn’t want to take the chance you’d get kicked out.”

“And why are you here?”

He picked up his coat to lay it over the back of the chair. “Little experiment first, then we get to it.”

She raised her eyebrows but couldn’t help a small smile playing across her lips. “What kind of experiment?”

He put his left hand to his bag and lifted it to the table, before opening it up and delving inside. He pulled out a wide, stunted feather. She came forward to see, smiling wider at the beautiful colours of such fine, delicate bird-down.

Until John crushed it in his right palm. He squeezed, frowning at it.

Nayda cleared her throat. “Hand-strengthening exercises?” she asked drily.

John watched his fingers as they opened up again slowly. He lifted his wrist to his eye-line, studying the crumpled feather as if it could give him the football results. “Give it a minute,” he muttered, pre-occupied.

She realised she was standing quite close to him. Her eyes flicked from the feather to his profile, before they tore themselves away again.

“Ha!” he said suddenly, making her jump. “Gotcha!”

“Me?” she asked.

“No - the bird in the office who shook my hand.” He beamed at her in victory. “She has a secret - a bloody big, _dangerous_ one if it’s turning the feather _this_ colour.”

“So… what does that mean?” she asked.

John picked up the feather by its shaft to twist it round steadily. He nodded and then dropped it back in the bag, wiping his hands together. “Your ex-missus,” he said. “Did she mention a woman on her staff at Moors Incorporated who worked with her back in New York?”

“Now you mention it… I think she did, yes.” She paused. “Why?”

John was smiling. “I think we might be able to wrap this up tonight.”

She looked at her watch. “It’s gone four in the afternoon.”

“We need the suspect at home where she thinks she’s safe - we can’t go for her in the office.”

“You think it was someone at Roberta’s office?” she gasped. “Why?”

“Sounds like a classic case of jealousy.” His hands found their way into his pockets. “There’s this bird who worked with your missus back in New York - more qualified, slightly senior, I reckon. She was up to be on the promotion ladder. Then your missus gets news her father has died - she goes to inherit the massive business out in Atlanta, and calls this bird to be her subordinate. That’s got to hurt, right?”

“You mean…” Nayda put her hands to her mouth, then backed up to turn and look at the dormant TV. “Someone killed Roberta because of her _job?_ ”

“Would you rather they hated her personally?”

She made her hands drop. “Sorry, John, I just…”

He looked at the carpet, then his eyes stole to her back. His head tilted and he scratched at the back of his head for a moment. He walked up behind her. “Sorry. I just open my mouth and… Thing is, you get kinda blasé about all this after a while. I’ve seen all kinds of horrors; the mild stuff doesn’t even make me blink any more.”

She turned and found herself rather close to him. He took a step back, but her hand raised to his tie. It slid up until it had a firm hold just a few inches under the lazy half-Windsor.

He looked down at it. “Look, uhm…” His words ran out on him.

She pulled on his tie. He had to take a step forward to balance. She lifted her chin deliberately and kissed him. Surprised, unsure, it took him a moment to retaliate. But only a moment.

His hands went to her face; her hands went to his tie. She wrenched it off before yanking his shirt open. He guided her white top up and over her head. The moment he dropped it to the carpet she grabbed his trouser belt and swung him toward the bed. His hand connected with her arm; he pulled her with him.

 

 


	5. FIVE

 

FIVE

 

 

Nayda twisted the towel around her wet hair, bundling it up on top of her head. She wrapped a fresh towel round her and opened the bathroom door. “Shower’s all yours, John,” she said. She checked how she looked in the mirror before turning to the motel room. “Unless you want me to scrub your—”

The room was empty, the window slightly open. She let her mouth slap shut. She wandered out into the room to find his bag and coat similarly missing. Her arms folded over her towel and she leant back against the doorjamb. She huffed, annoyance creeping up on her. Then she looked at the pile of her clothes on the floor. She shook her head and smiled.

 

ooOoo

 

 John flew down the iron staircase, surprising Chas, who turned at the noise. “Where have you been?” he asked. “It’s nearly six thirty, John. I thought we had lots of important demon-tracking stuff to do.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that a clean shirt?”

John walked straight past him to the table. He put his large bag on it and opened it up. “So this Elena Ashmore bird. She’s into horses,” he said, just a tad irritably.

Chas came up to the table, watching him carefully. “Oh- _kay,_ ” he said, with a slowness born of caution.

“You said on the phone - Zed saw horses.” John stopped and looked around. “Where _is_ Zed?”

“Taking a nap,” he said flatly. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Leave off, Chas,” he grumped, going back to the bag. “Elena Ashmore has a brilliant motive for wanting to bump Nayda’s missus off. What I can’t work out is how she got it into her head to get a demon to do it.”

Chas lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, whatever,” he breezed, going round the table to be opposite him. He watched John take out a few small items from the bag and put them on the table.

John didn’t look at him. “Are you sure Zed’s sleeping and not taking on a few biker gangs single-handed?”

“She’s in her room,” Chas smiled. “The last few times I’ve seen her around the place, she’s been listening to music.”

“Right,” John nodded. He looked up, directly at Chas, then hesitated and his eyes swept off to the wall behind him.

“What?” Chas asked.

John pursed his lip for a long moment. Then he shook his head as if freeing it of some fanciful notion. “Nothing.”

“If you say so,” Chas said. “But if you keep this up, Zed’s going to grill you when she finally does appear.” He paused. “Is this because I let her do her psychic thing?”

“That was wrong and you know it.”

“I’m not going to apologise for her being able to help us,” Chas said firmly.

John looked at the table. His hands withdrew from the table and ran for the safety of his pockets. “Uh… It’s possible I’ve…”

Chas waited, a small smile on his face. “What? Misjudged her? Again?”

“Nah, it’s…” John scratched at the back of his head, then turned a concerned pout on the table top. “It _may_ be possible that there’s a slim chance I _might_ have done something… I shouldn’t have.” His eyes went up at Chas - who knew a plea for help when he saw it.

“Like what?” he asked with trepidation. “Tell me you didn’t summon the demon.”

“Relax, Chas. I didn’t do anything _that_ stupid.”

“Then what?”

He sniffed, then went into his bag again for his trenchcoat. He pulled it out and fished through the pockets, eventually finding a packet of cigarettes. “I dropped by to see Nayda, to bring her up to speed, like.”

“You didn’t tell her you knew who killed her ex-wife, did you?” he demanded. “John, _that_ was stupid. How do we know she’s not going to try to bypass us and get revenge herself?”

“I didn’t give her _details_ , Chas. She’s not going to do this herself.” He paused, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “I just said I had reason to believe I knew who it was and asked her a few questions about her missus to confirm a few things.”

“And then you left and came straight here?” he asked. He looked at his watch. “Wait - it took you two hours to explain that to her?”

“I had to walk across town, too.”

“Two _hours_. You sure took your time explaining this whole thing.”

“Kinda,” John said weakly. He avoided Chas’ gaze, instead taking a long drag on his Silk Cut. “Well, that and a few other - uh - things.”

Chas stared at him, lost. And then the penny dropped. “John - you _didn’t_.”

“What can I say? She was gagging for it, mate. She was all over me as soon as I got in that motel room.”

“And you just couldn’t say no,” Chas groaned. “Perfect, John. Nice move. I hope you’re happy.”

“Pretty happy, yeah,” he said with sudden cheer. “I don’t remember the last time I got two shags in one _month_ , never mind one _day_.”

Chas put his hands up in surrender, turning away from him. “Stop. I do _not_ need details.” He paused. “This is going to backfire.”

“Well of _course_ it is; this is _me_ we’re talking about.” He puffed on the cigarette. “Forget it. I’ll handle it, ok?”

Chas turned back to him. “Then why did you bother telling me?”

John shrugged rather self-consciously, looking at the table. Chas noticed the way all of John’s attention went to his cigarette, and then reflected on how fortuitous it had been that John had lit one in the first place. He went to walk past him but stopped at the last minute. He laid a heavy hand on John’s shoulder, right by his neck, and squeezed for a moment. “Well don’t worry. I won’t let you do anything else stupid today.”

“Oh piss off and get me Elena Ashmore’s home address,” John muttered, the wind well and truly gone from his sails.

Chas smiled. He patted once and walked off.

 

ooOoo

 

“Right - Chas. You’re with me, and Zed stays here, yeah?” John called from the table as he rummaged through his bag.

Chas pulled on his jacket, magically producing his hat from the side pocket. “All ready to go.”

“Uhm, John?” came a call from above. 

They looked up to see Zed watching them from the upper landing. “Is Nayda _supposed_ to be here?” The head of the woman in question appeared next to Zed’s.

“She is _not_ coming with us, John,” Chas urged under his breath.

John glared at him, then spun to go to the iron stairs. He hauled himself up them and stood on the landing. “Uh, Zed - give Chas a hand, will you?”

Zed looked at him, then Nayda, then him again. “Uh-huh,” she said sarcastically. John’s eyes shrunk to veritable piss-holes in snow and his mouth squirrelled to one side as he turned to watch her leave. She went down the stairs without a word.

John turned back to Nayda. “Look, love—”

“John, stop,” she sighed. She looked over the balustrade to the two figures talking amongst themselves below. “About earlier. Uh… How do I put this?”

“It was fun, I ran off with my tail between my legs, you’re angry, but we’re kind of busy, so—”

“Stop,” she said sternly. “I know you’re not in this to make friends, or… attachments. _Believe_ me, I get that. Neither am I. —I don’t _do_ attachments any more.”

He nodded professionally before he swayed round to aim back at the stairs. “Right. Good talk. Let’s go and—”

She grabbed his arm. “I’m not finished.” She waited and he turned back to look at her, his face one of intense sheepishness. “John… There’s no guilt here, no shame.”

“We did have a good time, didn’t we?” he said ruefully.

She grinned. “I think the people in the room next door know we both did.” 

“But…”

“But?” she prompted.

“But we both know it was a one-time deal.” He paused, trying to identify the emotion on her face. “Right?”

Her smile faded as she considered his tie. “That’s not what I came here for.”

“Then what?”

“I’m coming with you.”

He studied her face for a long moment. She let go of his arm. “No,” he said dismissively.

“Excuse me?”

“Stay here; make sure Zed doesn’t get into trouble.”

“No.”

“You’re not coming with us, pet.”

“Don’t you ‘pet’ me in that cute accent,” she warned, glaring up at him. “I married Roberta, I divorced her, and when the police give up on their pointless investigation, I’ll bury her. So don’t you think for one minute I can’t be in the same room as whoever this bitch is who caused her to die.” She ran out of ire, calming herself somewhat. “The worst I’ll do is compose weather spells in my head that I’ll never actually use.”

He sniffed as if he cared neither way. “I don’t doubt your intentions, Nayda. But once you’re standing in the same room as them, and once we set about sending the demon home, you’re going to wish you were anywhere else - trust me.”

“You’re not listening to me, John—”

“No, _you’re_ not listening to _me_ ,” he snapped. “Remember how I go round telling people what’s best for them and they just don’t listen? And then bad things happen? This is shaping up to be one of those times. So leave it out - you’re staying here.”

“You stubborn bastard.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

She fumed. “I’ll just wait until you’ve left and then call a cab. You can’t stop me, John!”

He put his hands to the sides of her shoulders, holding her still. His eyes turned apologetic. “Yes, I can,” he said quietly. “Don’t make me.”

She glared up at him for a long moment. Her gaze went over his shoulder, then down to his shirt as she apparently fought with something. At last she huffed. “Then I’ll stay. But I won’t like it.”

“No-one’s asking you to.”

She stepped forward abruptly and kissed him.

The sounds of Zed and Chas’ conversation floated up from the basement floor, the house creaked and settled, somewhere a fridge clicked on and hummed.

Eventually she eased him away from her, sliding a hand down his face. “Go.”

John looked down over the landing to see Chas and Zed debating the merits of something going into John’s bag. He looked back at her. He nodded and turned to the stairs.

Nayda watched him weave his way down as if most of him were held together by rubber bands. Then she slapped a hand to her face, shook her head, and pushed all worry from her mind. 

Well, most of it.

  

ooOoo

 

Chas pulled his cab up at the kerb, killing the engine quickly. “A few houses down - across the street,” he said.

John was already fishing through the bag between his feet in the passenger footwell. “Right. All we need from her is the summoning ritual.”

“I thought you got it from that book?” Chas asked, surprised.

“It wasn’t in there. Bloody Aleister Crowley and his blanks,” he grumped. He secreted various small items in the inside pockets of his trenchcoat before looking at Chas. “Ready?”

“Oh, you’re letting me come along this time?”

“Well you’re a big boy, Chas. I’m sure you can handle a one hundred and ten pound woman if she throws herself at me.”

“You mean, _another_ woman who throws herself at you?”

John flashed him a smug grin. “It’s hard being me.”

“Get out of the car before I throw you out,” Chas warned.

John opened the door onto the empty road. The stretch of high streetlamps and wide tarmac between him and the other side of the road seemed very lonely. He looked up and down the road before closing the door behind him.

Chas slid out and shut his door, locking the cab before following John across the street. “So what’s the angle?” he asked.

“She thinks I’m from this big communications firm,” he said over his shoulder. “We get in there, I distract her with more background stuff, and you go snooping round her house. You know, do the whole ‘where’s your loo, darling?’ thing. As soon as you find anything dodgy, you come get me and we get her to come clean.”

They stopped at the end of the concrete path to the front door. Chas looked down at him. “What if she summons the demon to get rid of _us?_ ”

“That’s why you’re going to go searching whilst I keep an eye on whatever she prepares in the front room. If we fail and she tries to brings it here, we stop her - or we just bind it and send it home,” John shrugged.

“When you say ‘we’, you mean ‘you’, right?” Chas asked. John walked off down the path. “Right?” Chas prompted. “John?” He hurried after him.

John had stopped at the front door. He pushed a firm finger into the doorbell and stood back one.

The door opened and Elena looked out. “Oh. Hi,” she said, bemused. “Mr… Constantine, wasn’t it?”

“That’s me,” he nodded with a wide smile. “Is this a bad time? Just wanted to go over a few more things with you.”

“That depends,” she said, folding her arms. “Are you serious about offering me some kind of position at Vertigo Communications?”

“Very,” he said earnestly.

She tilted her head, as if thinking it over. “Then you can come in.”

“This is my associate, Mr Chandler,” he said, putting a hand out and grabbing Chas’ elbow. He yanked him closer to the front door.

“And what does he do?” she asked, her nose very close to wrinkling as she perused Chas’ appearance.

“He’s indispensable, love. He’s my driver, my fact-checker, and he also covers most tabs I leave behind in bars.”

Elena smiled. “You are an interesting man, Mr Constantine.”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Come on in. Oh, Mr Chandler, mind your head,” she said, stepping back and opening the door wider for them.

John waved a hand out and Chas went in first, snatching off his hat to shove it in his pocket. John followed, his hand out behind him. He shut the door behind them and looked around the modest landing. “Very nice,” he nodded. “Been here long, then?”

“Nearly a year,” she said. “Please, come through to the TV room. Coffee?”

“I’ll take one,” Chas smiled.

They walked down the hallway to a door on their left. She led them through to an open room with a three man sofa that shared the space with two plush armchairs. 

“Just you?” John asked. His eyes went over the photographs on the long side table against the far wall.

She nodded. “There was someone, but like I said—”

“Don’t want to pry, love,” he said, one hand up. “It’s strictly work.”

“Well. I’ll get you that coffee, Mr Chandler. Tea for you, Mr Constantine?”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” he said, finding a chair and settling himself in it.

Elena looked at Chas hopelessly. “He means no thanks,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back and left the room. Chas immediately went to the tall bookcase by the sofa. He was reading the spines as John got up and began sniffing at random spots along the wall. 

Chas noticed. “What _are_ you doing?”

“No sulphur in here, mate. Nothing at all.”

“Would it still be here? I mean, you’re assuming the demon was here at some point, right?”

“She would have had to dictate terms before she let it loose on poor Roberta,” he mused. He turned and surveyed the room slowly, spinning slowly on the balls of his feet, his hands going back into his pockets. “Nice place for someone who lives alone.”

“Not all of us simply sleep in a base of operations, John. Some of us actually make homes out them.”

John’s face screwed up in confusion before something on the table caught his eye. He went over and bent down to scrutinise a photo. “Well, well, well,” he breathed. “We may have found more than just a business connection.”

Chas looked round as John picked up a photo frame. He turned it to show Chas. “I’ve seen her before,” Chas said. He came closer to look. “That’s Roberta - the dead ex.”

“Maybe it wasn’t just Elena’s _promotion_ that didn’t work out,” John said brightly. He put the photo down again. “So Roberta moves out here to be boss of the new place, calls Elena back in New York and offers her a job, and then when Elena gets here, _someone_ gets Roberta to start playing around with ouija boards. Roberta starts spending all her time at work, probably with Elena here, and ends up cooling it with her missus. Next thing you know, they’re divorced and Elena’s getting more than just overtime pay off her boss.”

Chas shook his head. “Then why would Elena kill her?”

“Maybe Roberta broke it off.”

“Seriously?” Chas asked flatly. “You have a lot to learn about women.”

“I know which end is which. Everything else is just a complication,” he said off-hand, crossing the room to sit back in the chair.

Chas gawped. “You know, every time I think I’ve learnt just about every shocking thing there is about you, you come up with something new.” He paused. “Wait - where does the demon come into it?”

“Better question: where’s that bastard ouija board? And did Elena just make up the whole Nayda-having-an-affair thing to get Roberta to break things off with her wife?”

They heard a squeak of the floor and looked over to see Elena carrying a tray into the room. She smiled nervously and put it down on the table by John’s chair. “I brought cream and sugar for the coffee, Mr Chandler. I forgot to ask how you wanted it.”

“Oh that’s fine,” he said, in his friendliest tone. He went to the sofa to sit and Elena parked herself at the other end.

She added sugar to her own mug, stirring as her attention went to John. “So,” she said bravely. “What do you need to know?”

“We do background checks on all our prospective employees, Ms Ashmore,” John said with a relaxed smile. “It’s come to our attention that someone at your place of work was omitting… certain interests and rather odd out-of-work activities from their HR department forms. Specifically, you.”

Elena’s face went white. “Oh.” She put down her coffee. “I can see how you’d… uhm… Oh this is awkward. I knew I’d be found out.”

“It’s best just to come clean, love,” John said. “We’re not here to harm you. We just need to know what you did.”

Elena closed her eyes in discomfort. “I… I had no idea anyone knew. I kept it such a secret from my colleagues. Nothing on my desk, nothing out of the ordinary on my phone…” She put her head in her hands. “I _knew_ I never should have touched that stupid board.”

John and Chas shared a glance. “The ouija board?” John asked.

“Yes,” she muttered. “Damned thing has ruined everything.”

John gestured to Chas with his chin. He got up and went out of the room. Elena didn’t even lift her hands to watch. John sat forwards, his hands laced together. “Start from the beginning, Ms Ashmore. Tell me everything. This is only going to come back and bite you in the arse. I might be able to help you.”

Elena made her hands drop. She reached out and picked up her coffee. A few slow sips and she was sitting straighter, looking John in the eye. “We thought it was a joke. This woman in HR - she brought it to the office party. Some of us tried out the board, laughed at it telling us silly things like our long-dead grandmas were happy in heaven, and all that crap,” she said weakly.

“And then?”

“And then… Then it started to get weird. It said…” She sipped her coffee. “It said that Mr Moors - the company director… He had died of natural causes, but he’d always wanted his daughter to take over from him. Roberta was… really upset.” She cleared her throat. “I said we should stop it there, just put the damn thing away. Roberta asked it questions - it told her that her wife up in New York was seeing someone else. Then she got _really_ angry.”

“What did you do, Elena?” John asked. “Did you offer to help her with that? Offer to find a way to make her wife pay for hurting your boss? And then it went wrong and _Roberta_ died instead… Is that what happened?”

“What? No!” she gasped. “What are you, crazy? I calmed her down, told her not to believe that stupid game board! But once it was in her head she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She went over and over it - her wife flew up here to see her. Roberta came in on Monday saying they’d had a massive break-up and it was all over. She was… so sad.” She tutted. “That _evil_ board started _all_ of this.”

John frowned. “I don’t get it. What did the ouija board ever do to you?”

“It made me… It put me - everyone - in a position to do something really stupid,” Elena sighed. She looked up at John. “Do you know what it’s like to work with someone for so long, and not realise how you feel about them? Then one day they’re inconsolable and you just… You comfort them. Only…” She sipped her coffee.

“Go on,” he said, curious.

“I was so sad for Roberta. She didn’t deserve to have her father die and then her wife cheat on her. We talked more, got closer, and then…” She paused and looked at him in defiance. “I slept with her. We liked it, so we kept doing it,” she announced. “There. Secret’s out. Tell HR. I don’t care. I loved Roberta. Probably more than her wife did, considering how she was having an affair with her next door neighbour. How she could do that to Roberta I will never understand.”

“What?” John asked. “What’s that got to do with the ouija board telling you to summon a demon?”

“A _demon?_ ” she cried. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” he said abruptly, “you’ve lost me. What was this big thing, this big secret thing that was so dangerous you had to hide it from your colleagues at work?”

“You are _kidding_ ,” she said flatly, fixing him with a glare.

He waved his hands out in mystification. “Spell it out for me.”

“You can’t hook up with other workers in the same office,” she snapped. “It’s against HR rules. If anyone found out I was dating the _boss_ of all people - I’d be sacked, for one. My career would be over - you don’t come back from being fired from a major firm like Moors Inc. - I’d never work in communications again. And I don’t know what it would have done to Roberta’s reputation as the head of the friggin’ company - she’d be a joke.”

“Oh,” John managed. His hand came up and rubbed across his forehead. “So… nothing to do with demons, then?”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

Chas appeared in the doorway. John and Elena looked up to see him brandish a stiff cardboard box at them both. “Hasbro, like you said, John. It’s unmarked.”

John scratched his head. “None of this makes any sense.”

“Tell me about it,” Chas said.

“Excuse me - have you been through my things?” Elena demanded. She got to her feet. “Who _are_ you?”

Chas put his free hand up. “I’m sorry, I really am. It was on top of the wardrobe - it was the first thing I saw when I walked into the room, I _swear_.”

“In my _bedroom_ ,” she fumed. “Get out of my house! Both of you!” She turned on John. “And you!You’re _crazy_ , talking about demons like they’re real!” She turned and grabbed the box from Chas. Her hand went into his arm and pushed him toward the door. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

“Alright, love! Ok!” John cried, his hands out in surrender. “We’re going!”

“Faster!” she cried angrily. “If you’re not out in five seconds I’m calling the police - and don’t even _think_ about coming to the office!”

John and Chas bundled themselves out of the house and onto the path. She slammed the front door behind them.

Chas looked down at John. “That went well.”

“At least we didn’t get arrested.” He put his hands in his pockets and ambled down the path. 

Chas looked back at the house, then followed John. Quickly.

 

 


	6. Six

SIX

 

 

John opened the door to the mill house. He peeled off his coat as he went down the wooden steps, Chas hot on his heels. They went along the upper landing to the iron steps to hear happy voices below, and then their impatient traipse down said stairs presented them with Zed and Nayda laughing from the sofas.

“Alright then?” John asked.

Zed looked over. “Nayda and I were just… talking. About things.”

“And what would these ‘things’ be?” he asked suspiciously, making his way over to the sofa. He dropped his trenchcoat over the back, right next to the part currently occupied by Nayda. He rested his elbows on the top and leant over to look from one woman to the other.

Chas went to the end of the other couch, a few feet from Zed’s comfortable slouch, and let himself plonk down onto it with feeling. “I don’t care,” he muttered. “I just want this thing figured out.”

“So do I,” Nayda said. She turned her head to look up at John. “Although that would mean I’d have to go home to New York sooner.”

“Well what is there to hang around here for?” he said sourly. He pushed himself up from the sofa and walked off toward the large wooden table.

Nayda’s expression turned ever so slightly disappointed. Zed’s head tilted to one side as she considered this, but then Nayda looked at Chas. “I take it you didn’t get what you wanted from tonight’s secret outing?”

“We can scratch our only suspect off the list,” Chas sighed. “It is _not_ Elena Ashmore. In fact, she had a really good reason _not_ to hurt Roberta.”

“What’s that?” Nayda asked brightly.

Chas sat up to meet her eyes. “Well… This is going to be hard for you to hear, but—”

“Politics,” John interrupted loudly. He came back over and stood by the arm of the sofa, his hands in his pockets. “She needed Roberta to be the boss for a bit longer. Once she’d got more of a toe hold on the whole thing, then she might have had a chance of taking over from her. Now, though? She’s going to get shunted back to her own job in a week or so once they’ve had their board meetings and decided they want to bring in someone more experienced.”

Chas frowned at John. He simply looked back at him, his every pore impervious to scrutiny. “That’s what you’re going with?” Chas warned.

John spun on his heel. “Actually, I’m going to find something to summon the rum bugger seeing as I can’t do much else.” He crossed the room and was lost to the bookshelves.

Zed looked across at Chas. “What’s eating him?”

“Dead end,” Chas said. “Sorry, ladies. Looks like this is going to take longer than we thought. I think we should all get some sleep.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Zed asked quietly.

“Oh, you’ve done enough,” he said. “His Satanic Majesty’s already told me off for letting you help the _last_ time.”

 

ooOoo

 

Zed came down the steps cautiously, to be greeted by the sudden and complete thrashing racket of some kind of repetitive bashing and warbling noise. She put her fingers to her ears and headed for the table. “John!” she shouted over the noise. “Hey!”

He turned from the table, his face all about surprise. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Turn it down!” she cried.

He reached across the table and picked up a remote control, pressing something repeatedly.

The music gently faded until it was quiet enough for Zed to appreciate her ears ringing. She let them go and frowned at him. “What _was_ that awful noise? And how did I not hear it until I got down the stairs?”

He smiled. “Never Mind the Bollocks, and—”

“I couldn’t help it, it was really loud!” she protested.

“No, that’s the name of the _album_ , love,” he chuckled. She ‘oh’ed. “Dampening spell,” he added. “Didn’t want to wake the whole house any earlier than I had to.”

She walked around him to the table. It was covered in books that looked as though someone had carefully left them to ferment and pickle themselves inside their heavy leather covers. “Did you find anything?”

His good cheer disappeared, submarining back under the air of resigned cynicism pervading the room. “No. It’s like the bloody thing is _hiding_ from me.”

“Change the music. You need something uplifting,” she said, preoccupied. Her eyes went over the pages splayed out all over the surface.

“This _is_ uplifting.”

“You call this comfort music?” she asked in surprise, looking up at him.

“Each to their own.” She watched him sit at the table. His elbow went into the wood and the attached hand went into his hair. “Why isn’t it here? What am I missing?” he grumped.

“You’ll find it,” she said. “You always find _something_.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled. “John’ll just pull something out of his arse like he always does. Well what if I _don’t_ , Zed? What if this thing gets sic’d on someone else? What if the thing gets free of whoever thinks they’re commanding it?”

Her eyes rolled up to him, large and apologetic. “This isn’t on you, John. You didn’t set it free.”

“No, but I bloody well should’ve got it back in the bottle before now.”

A voice called from above suddenly. “Jooooohn! Turn the TV on, now!”

“We have a TV?” Zed asked.

John picked up the remote control and pressed. The music snapped off as he hurried across the room and vaulted over a sofa. He landed in the darkest corner of the room, Zed hurrying round the furniture to see what he was up to.

He pulled a small, ancient looking television set from the floor area. He carried the white plastic item to the table and set it down, the power cable trailing behind it to dangle the plug a foot from the floor. It swung about as he reached out and turned the large silver knob on the left of the casing.

“But it’s not even—. Oh,” Zed marvelled, as the set sprang into life.

Chas was pounding down the stairs, followed by Nayda. They had matching lengths of grass in their hands as they stopped by the table.

Zed came to stand behind them as they all gazed at the pictures on the TV - a news report. A man was standing in front of a familiar-looking house, talking rapidly at the screen as an ambulance and a fire truck shone their lights from their roofs, people hurrying to and fro.

“That’s Elena’s house,” Chas said quietly.

John reached over and turned the volume up.

“…Just a few hours ago. Police are looking for anyone who saw visitors to the victim’s house, at any time last evening or during the night. Once again, this was a horrific attack on a single woman in a decent neighbourhood. Neighbours have come forward to say that the woman, who cannot yet be named for legal reasons, was relatively new to the area but was a kind and generous neighbour. She was well liked by the children around here, and even though she worked long hours, she always gave time to the community at holidays and festival times. Back to you, Sheena.”

The scene swapped to a studio, with a man and a woman behind a large news desk. John put his hands to the table. He leant on them with all of his soul. His head dangled on his neck.

Zed came forward and snapped off the TV.

It was silent.

Until John’s hands convulsed in a sudden jerk of rage. They swept two or three hefty books and a pile of papers from the surface. He dragged in a deep breath. “ _Bollocks!_ ” he roared.

Zed stepped away quickly. Chas gestured back with his head and she retreated cautiously, her eyes watching for sign of more violence. He felt Nayda handing him fistfuls of grass. He took them quickly, lest they tumble from her hand and land on the floor. She looked back as John lunged along the table edge, shoving every _other_ book off the top, shouting something that turned the air blue with its hatred.

“John, calm down,” she said firmly.

“That was her! Elena! We were just there last night!” he shouted. He turned on her, making Chas prepare himself for a flying rugby tackle should John let his anger get the better of him, the grass in his hands be damned.

“I’m getting that,” she shot back. “But you throwing a tantrum like a child is not going to help us!”

“She’s _dead_ , Nayda! We saw her last night and we found she had _absolutely nothing to do with any of this!_ ” he raged. “How do we know the bastard thing didn’t just follow us there? Was it aiming for us and got her instead? For all we know I just _killed a woman_ while I was bumbling round thinking I had it all figured out!”

“Stop!” she shouted into his face. “Stop. Take a breath.”

“And what will that do?” he cried.

She put firm hands to his head, holding him still. “John,” she said quietly. “Maybe it _was_ your fault. Maybe she _did_ die because of you. Shouting about this will not make you feel better. You already know this.”

He glared at her, his chest heaving in air, his eyes harder and more fierce than any she had ever seen.

“You are… so _very_ angry. For the people you can’t save,” she whispered. “But remember all the people you _have_ saved. And then pull yourself together and help us find a way out of this. You said before you’d just summon it here and send it back to Hell. What if you can’t do that? Can you at least _find_ it?”

He closed his eyes, his head tilting to one side. Eventually he opened them again. “Maybe,” he breathed. He put his hands up and slid hers from him, letting them go smartly. “I’ll need some things.”

He turned and went to the door at the end. He hurled it open. A second later it was slamming behind his angry tread.

“Phew!” Zed said, in a loud, embarrassed voice. “Lucky he didn’t lose his temper.”

Chas wiped a hand down his face. “You should see him when he _really_ cuts loose.”

“Do we wait for him to come back? Or do we go help him?” Nayda asked.

“I think we leave him to the house,” Chas said wisely. “You might not find what you want down _that_ corridor.”

Zed eyed him but said nothing. Instead she went round the table and began to pick up books and scattered papers. Nayda turned and helped her, and between them, they had everything back on the surface.

“At least it’s shaken the dust off some of these,” Zed said with a small smile. Chas put his handfuls of grass on the table, making Zed pick up a blade and sniff it gingerly. “What is this?” she asked.

“Potehenya grass,” Nayda smiled.

“Is it used for white magic?” Zed asked, fascinated.

“You could say that,” Nayda grinned. “I make tea with it.”

“Does it help you sleep?” Zed asked. “Because if it does, I might force some down John’s throat sometime soon.”

“It does, yes,” Nayda said quietly. “I’ll leave some here.”

Zed studied the grass for a moment or two, before smiling at Nayda and putting it down.

The door at the end of the room opened abruptly and John appeared. He carried a wooden box to the table with the air of a man who had kicked and shouted himself out, and felt much more balanced for it. He looked around at everyone. “You lot still here? You must be desperate for entertainment.”

“Actually… we thought you’d take longer,” Zed said.

John looked at his watch. “It’s been two hours.”

“What?” She leant over and checked the watch face. Then she looked at Chas.

“It’s ten fifteen,” Chas shrugged.

“It’s _twelve_ fifteen,” John countered. Then he turned and stared back at the open door to the long corridor. “Note to self; time’s all buggered down there.”

“What’s in the box?” Nayda asked.

John turned back to it and began to lift the lid. “Something that locates concentrations of evil.”

“Like demons?” Zed asked.

“That’s the plan. Hopefully there aren’t too many things around here that could have evil more concentrated than a demon,” he mused. “Although there’s a Coca Cola plant in this city somewhere.”

Zed pushed at his elbow. “Just get going,” she smiled.

Nayda picked up a book, lifting it on top of another to make more room. She found scraps of paper on the wooden surface and began to gather them up. She paused, reading at the pencil scrawls. “What’s this?” she asked.

Chas towered over her shoulder to see. “Oh. Just my notes,” he said. “About Moors Incorporated. Not really helpful any more.”

She turned to put them down, but then smiled somewhat sadly. “And in all of this sadness and upset, there’s one beautiful thing.”

“What’s that?” Zed asked, intrigued.

Nayda tapped at the paper with her finger. “This name, here. Such a majestic creature.”

John was busy appraising the box and its innards. “Clear off, all of you,” he said. “I’m about to open this and charge it up.” He looked at Chas. “I’ll need the rest of that pig’s blood from the cellar.”

“This place has a cellar? Wait - you keep _pig’s_ blood down there?” Zed asked.

“Well I’m not putting it in the fridge,” John scoffed. “I know I’m partial to black pudding but that’s ridiculous.”

Zed blinked, then put both hands to the table. She almost pitched forward but her hands kept her balanced. “Oooh. Dizzy.”

“You alright?” John asked. He shut the box lid firmly. “Zed?”

“I’m ok,” she managed. She put a hand to her head. “Just… really dizzy.” She looked up. “Smells like… horses. More horses. Can you smell that?”

“ _That’s_ a coincidence,” Nayda said, confused.

“No such thing with her, love,” John warned. “Why do you say that?”

“This name, here,” she said, lifting a piece of note paper.

“What name?” John asked. He reached out and took the paper from her fingers. “I don’t see anything to do with horses here.”

Nayda frowned. “Right there,” she said, coming up behind the paper and clamping her finger around the edge to point to it right in front of his face. “Cremello. It’s a horse that’s off-white. Genetics mixing with another colour, I think.”

“Cremello?” John echoed. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“Heather Cremello!” Chas said. “Heather Cremello works in HR! —Wait, Elena said the ouija board came from someone who worked in HR!”

John looked up slowly. He grabbed Nayda’s face in both hands and kissed her firmly right by the mouth. “You are a _bloody genius!_ ” he cried with glee.

“Thanks,” she said, bewildered.

He whipped around to the box and snatched it up, tucking it under his arm and heading back for the door to the corridor.

“Where are you going?” Chas called.

“Wait for me - just got to put this back to stop the skull talking and then we can get tooled up to find this Heather bird!” John called over his shoulder.

“Did he say a skull was talking?” Zed asked.

He put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t even ask any more.”

 

ooOoo

 

Chas traced the sigil very carefully through the thin paper, making sure he had it all perfectly inked before lifting the top page to check underneath. “Looks… done,” he said, standing back.

Zed came over and leant down to see. “Looks pretty good to me. What’s it for again?”

“Protection - it should stop a demon from possessing you without asking. At least, that’s what John says.”

“Where is John, anyway? I thought he’d be in a hurry to find Heather Cremello.”

Chas twisted to look up at the top landing. “He said he was putting some kind of powder together - said it would help protect him from this demon in case it tries anything.”

Zed folded her arms. “We’re not letting him go alone, are we?”

“Well…” Chas sighed. “Much as I want to be there and stop anything happening to him… I’m out of my depth, Zed. All I know is, this sign will stop it from even _trying_ to possess him. He’s got other stuff too - wards and other things I’m sure he thinks are too complicated to explain.”

She shook her head slowly. “It’s not right. We shouldn’t let him do this. Not so soon after Mexico.”

“Well hey, he said he didn’t remember all that, so—”

“I think he does,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“He said something, that’s all. I’m just not sure… I don’t know,” she said. She looked up at him. “I don’t want him to go alone.”

“Then we’ll go with him.”

“And Nayda?” she dared. “You know she and John kinda—”

“Oh, I was there for _that_ awkward conversation,” he scoffed. “I think we should just leave him to work it out himself.”

She smiled as she turned away to glance at the iron staircase. “Well maybe we should go get him - see if he needs any help with this protection stuff.”

“I’ll go,” he said. He put down the black Sharpie and went to the iron stairs. He looked back, but Zed was leaning over to study the sigil he had created. He reached the top and went along the landing until he heard voices. He looked at the half open door to his right.

“Should do the trick, love.”

“Just make sure it’s properly blended, or it won’t be as effective.”

“Cheers for your help. I mean it.”

There was a pause and Chas went for the partially open door. He pushed it open and strode in. His mouth opened and he looked up. “John, we need—”

Nayda had her hands to John’s face, well and truly invested in the kiss that had him unable to do anything but give as good as he got. She jumped and pulled herself back. 

John glanced up over her shoulder and caught sight of Chas. He sniffed and then his eyes went to his own shoes as he scratched a hand through his hair. “Perfect timing, mate. We need to get this gear into the car.”

Chas made his eyes go to the table and the jars and bags of powder upon it. “Uh - yeah - right,” he said. “Yeah. Ready when you are.”

Nayda put a hand to a jar on the table, picking it up to inspect the dust inhabiting it. “Well this is ready.”

John picked up a glass jar, larger than Nayda’s, and dipped it into the large stone bowl still lounging on the table. When it came out again it was half full of powder. He put his hand out and Nayda passed him the dust. “Just got to mix these two and give _this_ bad boy,” he said, waggling the larger jar, “a bit of a scratching up with a few sealing sigils. It can charge itself up whilst we’re on the way.”

“Ok,” Chas said cluelessly.

Nayda smiled at him. “I’ll help you get everything into your truck.”

“Take the taxi,” John said. “We won’t all fit in the truck.”

“And why are we _all_ going again?” Chas asked.

“Because every time I turn me back, you lot are doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Which you _never_ do,” Chas said darkly.

John glared at him but Chas waved a hand out toward the door. Nayda picked up a small bag, pulled the strap onto her shoulder, and walked out.

John was already opening a box on the table, pulling out a bizarre metal glove covered in dainty chains. The hood of the index finger had a tiny wicked blade sticking out of it. He noticed Chas watching him. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to walk in and… you know,” he said quietly.

John shrugged, then began to sort the chains into some kind of order. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve walked in on me doin’ worse.”

“Well it _is_ ironic, considering the last few times I thought I knew what you were doing until I walked in…” He shook his head.

“What? When?” John asked, lost.

“Forget about it.” Chas watched him slide parts of the links of glove over his fingers. “So… do you want us all together to keep an eye on us, or so you… so you’re not tempted to do something you know we’ll try to talk you out of?”

“Go,” John said.

Chas turned and went for the door.

 

ooOoo

 

Chas pulled the taxi to a stop. He peered across the road at the house. “Looks quiet enough,” he muttered.

“Of course it does,” John said from the back seat. He bent over to rummage around in the large bag between his feet, hauling out small items and pushing them into his trenchcoat pockets. “You lot stay here - together. I need to get a word in before she twigs I’m here about a demon, and if the four of us appear on her doorstep she’s going to know something’s rotten in Denmark.”

Zed put her hand out and grabbed his elbow. “I should come with you.”

“What’s the matter, Zed?” he asked with a wry smile. “Worried I’ve got the only keys to the mill house?”

Zed watched him go back to filling his pockets. She bit her lip, then looked up and caught Chas’ eye in the rear view mirror. “It’s always better with a woman.”

“Well that’s open to debate, now isn’t it?” John grinned.

Zed tilted her head. “I meant when you question her - women are less threatening. I should come with you, soften the surprise.”

“What a load of bollocks,” John scoffed. “If anyone really knew anything about women - _real_ ones - they’d argue they’re twice as devious, twice as patient and four times as downright bloody evil as any bloke tries to be.”

She grinned brightly, holding her hands up in a clear ‘ta-da!’ tableau.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Alright then, come on.” He heard Nayda stir from the front seat. “ _Just_ Zed,” he said hastily. “She’s as much trouble as I need right now.”

Zed shoved at his arm and then turned to get out of the cab.

John hauled himself out of the passenger door and closed it softly behind him. He stood on the pavement, looking across the street at the welcoming two-storey house. 

Zed looked over the car roof at him. “Well? How do we do this?”

He went around the car and crossed the silent road. “You ring her doorbell, keep her occupied. I’ll go up… _that_ tree,” he said, lifting a hand from his pocket to point to the tall green gift by an upstairs window, “and see what I can find.”

“You want me to just keep her occupied?”

“One thing at a time, Zed,” he said. They came to a stop by the base of the wide trunk. John looked up at it speculatively.

“You said…” Zed began quietly. “Well you told me that you had all your protections and charms back in place.”

“That’s right.”

“And you asked Chas to make that sigil - and I saw you mark it on the inside of your coat.”

“That’s right.”

“So… why do you need the extra powder?”

John didn’t look at her. His hands slipped into his trouser pockets as he continued to appraise the branches on the tree. “You ever been somewhere you didn’t want to go back to?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded with conviction.

“What would you do to make sure you weren’t dragged back there?”

“I’d… push a woman into a void room and beat the other guy over the head and steal his truck,” she said matter-of-factly.

John looked at her. He began to smile. “You and Chas…” He looked at his feet. “I’d give you my last cigarette.”

“Wow. I feel honoured,” she grinned. “If that’s the highest validation I can get from the great magician John Constantine, then I’ll take it.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, taking his hands from his pockets and going for the tree, “you don’t need anyone’s validation, love. You _never_ did.” He began to climb.

Zed watched him make two branches before realisation caused her smile to lose purchase. “Wait,” she blurted, trying to keep her voice down, “you’re going to be ok, right?”

“Get her to the front door and distract her!” he hissed.

She swallowed. She backed up and went around the front of the house.

 

ooOoo

 

The window inched up, accompanied by grunting noises. At last it was open a whole foot, and then two hands gripped the sill. More grunting went on, joined by scrabbling and cursing. At last, John made it through the window and fell gracelessly to the carpet inside. 

“Bastard,” he hissed, rolling to his back to get his bearings. He looked around at the room - some kind of study. He got to his hands and knees and then used the window sill to make it to his feet, all the while looking around at the dark room. The light from the moon and the streetlamps were casting odd shadows around the desk, the chair, the maps and papers pinned to the corkboards on the walls. He pulled his lighter from his trouser pocket and snapped it open, flicking the flame into obedience. It brought him images of diagrams and words, written in a curiously neat hand on the notes pinned to the boards. His nose went closer to a piece of paper and he read slowly. Shaking his head, he went to the next one, and the next.

The steady hum of women’s voices somewhere downstairs interrupted his concentration; he moved to the next board, found it as useless as the first, and then turned his attention to the desk. He rifled through, checked the drawers, went to the calendar, and then checked a few scrumpled up sheets in the waste paper basket. 

He snapped the lighter shut in disgust, closing his eyes and shoving it back in his pocket. He turned around slowly, his hands out as if for balance, his head tilted in thought. His boots took him backwards until he was against the wall. He sniffed. The room watched him tread slowly across the carpet, sniffing all the while. 

Suddenly he stopped dead. He sniffed again, and again, edging to his right. He kept going until his leg banged into the desk. He opened his eyes, now much more accustomed to the dark, and crouched to inspect the desk drawers. Shaking his head, he opened the bottom one, then lay on the carpet, turned to his back, and shoved his head under the wooden furniture. He grinned and then chuckled to himself, his fingers pulling at something on the underside of the bottom drawers. He ripped it free and slid out from the desk, sitting up to turn the thin notebook over in his hands.

“Bugger me,” he breathed, finding the front cover and opening it up. “Where the hell did you get this, love?” He sniffed the pages suspiciously. “Sulphur. And…” He sniffed again. He frowned in thought before he simply stuck his tongue out and licked at a page. He sniffed the damp paper quickly. “Where have I smelt that before?” he mused. He let the notebook fall to his knee. His hand scratched at the back of his head as he turned the smell over and over in his head.

A light suddenly appeared under the door to the corridor. He got up and shoved the book inside his trenchcoat. He went to the door and opened it wide enough for a single eye to spy on the upstairs landing. 

Voices and familiar thump-on-carpet noises greeted him. He waited, and then a figure walked past his door. He froze - until he pulled it open further and stuck his head out. “Oi, Zed,” he hissed.

She stopped dead and turned. “Are you done yet? She thinks I’m using the bathroom.”

“I know how she got the demon here,” he nodded. He came out from the door, producing the book. “I just don’t know why. She’s got no connection to Roberta - why kill her?”

“Why don’t we get downstairs and _ask_ her.”

“Whoa there - just hakkuna your tatas for a moment,” John said hastily. “She’s got this thing on a leash. If she calls it back to her when we’re asking her what’s gone on, we’ll both be targeted.”

“Then give me some of your protection powder and let’s do this,” Zed said firmly.

He stowed the book again and put his hand in the other inside coat pocket. “It’s _actually_ scary.”

“What is?” she asked. 

He pulled out the marked jar of powder, unscrewing the lid and delving into the fine grains within. “How much you trust me.”

“I don’t trust you, I trust the powder to work,” she teased with a smile.

He smiled but then it disappeared. “Stand still,” he instructed. She kept her arms straight and waited. He flicked the powder over her hair, muttering something she didn’t even attempt to figure out. Some went on her jacket, more in her hair. She watched as he did the same to his own hair and trenchcoat. He screwed the lid back on and thrust it back into his pocket. “Right. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. What’s the plan?”

“We get down there and ask her to ‘fess up. We cut the leash she’s got on this demon. We can cast it back to Hell if it’s without a master.”

“When do we do that bit?”

“When we’re safely out of here and in a secure place we can summon it.” He paused. “I need you to keep her off-balance. This won’t work if she knows what we’re trying to do.”

“I can do that,” she nodded firmly.

“Then let’s go.” He turned toward the stairs. He hesitated.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Where’s the bathroom, love?”

She let her shoulders sag. “And I was hoping for some words of wisdom, or hope, before we do this.”

“Are you kidding? Best thing to do before an exorcism is get it all out of your system. Stops you pissing yourself in fear in front of a demon.”

“Just go,” she ordered, her arm out and pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

 

 


	7. SEVEN

SEVEN

 

 

Heather looked up at the doorway to the hall, seeing Zed smile as she walked back into the front room. “Hey,” she said cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Zed managed awkwardly. She went back to the long sofa opposite Heather’s chair but did not sit. “So…”

“I love this one,” Heather said, leaning forward to the coffee table. She picked up a silver chain with assorted charms threaded onto it. “Does it come with blue stones? I wear a lot of blue.”

“Of course my company can produce whatever jewellery you need. We do part-orders too, so you can put in one at a time and we’ll produce them altogether for you.”

“Perfect,” Heather said. She paused suddenly. “Your coat - it looks a little dusty.”

“Oh, yeah,” Zed said hastily. “I - uh - have this leave-in conditioner, and it kinda—”

“Oh wait, I know that smell,” Heather said, her face a thoughtful frown. “I’m going to go with… cinnamon?”

“You got me,” Zed said brightly, relieved.

“And… hmm… I’ve smelled that other scent recently. Now let me think…” Heather looked over toward the window. An abrupt bump came from the next room. Her head snapped round to look at the doorway. “I wonder what that was.”

“You don’t have a cat, do you?” Zed smiled.

“No. But then the next door neighbour’s tortoise-shell is always getting in my study window.” She got up. “It really is a pest. I’m not really a cat person.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Can you hear that?” Heather asked suddenly. “Sounds like… someone talking. A man’s voice.” She went to the door.

“Wait,” Zed said. “Maybe it’s just a TV.”

“I only have one and it’s over there,” Heather said, pointing. 

“A radio?” Zed hazarded.

Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Did you bring someone with you? Oh my god - am I being _robbed?_ ”

“No!” Zed said, her hands up in surrender. “I just think—”

“Police,” Heather said under her breath. She hurried around the sofa to reach for the phone. 

Zed leapt over the end of the furniture and snatched it up. “You don’t need the police!”

“Normally I’d agree with you but a woman at work lived in a nice neighbourhood too, and someone _killed_ her last night!” She straightened herself up. “Now give me the phone!”

“No,” Zed said firmly. She clutched it to her, taking a step back.

Heather opened her mouth. She paused. “That is _definitely_ a man’s voice - and he sounds angry,” she snapped. “Well you and your accomplice aren’t going to get one over on _me!_ ” She turned for the door and disappeared.

“Wait!” Zed called. She dropped the phone to the sofa and raced after her.

She found her stock-still in the doorway to her dining room. Her mouth was wide open. She stared.

“Alright, love?” John said gamely. The dining table had been covered in a white cloth and six red candles, each of them belching black smoke from their wicks. An array of small bone-shaped items were scattered about, as well as pieces of paper with all kinds of sigils and seals scribbled on them. John’s hands were raised as if conducting the table ensemble in some kind of grand sweeping orchestral movement.

“What - the - hell - are - you - doing?” Heather managed.

“Cutting you off,” he said with false cheer. He sniffed, squared his shoulders, and looked back at the accoutrements on the table. “ _Deus caeli, Deus terrae, humiliter majestati gloriae tuae supplicamus ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, laqueo, deceptione et nequitia, omnis fallaciae, libera nos, Domine!_ ”

The candles blew out all at once. Wind whipped around the table, flinging hair, coat tails, fear around the room. Heather grabbed at the doorframe for support. Zed simply stood her ground, watching John roll his fingers in graceful curls until his hands were palm up. 

He let his arms drop and then tilted his head at Heather. “So that’s that, then.”

“What’s happening?” she demanded in fright. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’ve just snipped your leash, pet. Your demon is now free of your commands.”

“What demon? What are you talking about?” she cried. 

Zed frowned, stepping back one. “John…”

“Oh come on, love. You can pack it in - we know it was you,” John said confidently. His hands went into his pockets. “You used your little spotter’s book of demons, chose a particularly nasty one, and sic’d it on poor Roberta - and then Elena. What I can’t figure out is why.”

“John,” Zed said.

“You are _mad_ ,” Heather cried. “Roberta and Elena - they were murdered!”

“Yeah, by your friend Irrucaynya,” John said.

“John!”

“ _What_ , Zed?” he demanded irritably.

“It’s not her,” she whispered. “She’s… she’s scared.”

“She should be, the daft mare. She’s summoned a demon and thought she could control it. It’ll be on its way here right now to inculcate her on the stupidity of _that_ notion.”

“ _Listen_ to me,” Zed snapped. “She’s confused, lost. It’s _not_ her!”

John pursed his lips, looking at Heather, then back at Zed. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His chin jerked up slightly to the right, his dark eyes twinkled with indecision. “What?”

Zed glared at him. “Do you trust me?”

“Pretty much.”

“It’s not her.”

He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Bollocks,” he heaved in resignation. He looked at Zed. “Well I’ve really done it now - it’s on its way back to its so-called master.”

“Pity we don’t know who that is,” Zed accused.

“I’m doin’ my best here,” he shot back. “You were the one who said you smelt horses!”

“I _did_ smell horses!”

“Oh wonderful!” John cried, his hands flailing into the air. “So we’ll all smell of farm animals when the demon turns up to rake us into tiny bits!”

“ _You_ don’t,” Heather said.

“What?” Zed asked her.

“At least we don’t smell like the back of Chas’ taxi!” John went on, oblivious.

“You don’t smell of horses,” Heather said innocently. She turned to look at Zed. “You smell of jorlanntay root.”

“Or that room down the end of The Corridor We Don’t Go Down,” John cried. “I still haven’t figured out why it smells like someone died from eating shi—”

“Shut up, John!” Zed cried. John’s mouth worked but nothing came out. Zed looked at Heather. “We smell like _what?_ ”

“Jorlanntay root,” she said innocently. “I have some by my sofa.”

John’s head snapped round. “And what the bloody hell are _you_ doing with jorlanntay root?” he asked, non-plussed.

Heather shrugged, emotionally, completely, and in every other way past caring. “Roberta’s ex-wife gave it to me. She said it would keep the beetles out.”

John and Zed looked at each other. Their eyes widened together as if rehearsed.

“ ’Kinell!” John blurted. He scrabbled to get round the table. The women parted in fright as he barrelled straight between them and out of the room.

“Wait - where are you going?” Zed called.

“I left Chas sat right next to her!” He pounded along the corridor to the front door.

It flew open and smacked him straight in the face. He bounced off to end up sprawled on the floor. All he could do was lie on his back and groan.

Zed and Heather stopped at the doorway. “Nayda!” Heather gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s come to finish the job,” John managed.

“You!” Zed gasped. “But why?”

“Oi,” John grunted from the floor. “Where’s Chas?”

“Believe it or not he’s in the cab,” Nayda grinned. “He’ll have to sleep off the ground potehenya grass he inhaled completely by accident. He should be ok in… a few hours.”

“You mean you didn’t kill him?” John said resentfully.

“No. He’s not on my list,” she snapped, stepping in through the door and slamming it behind her. 

“Why are you doing this?” Zed asked, lost.

“Why? The usual. Working hard to get what I want until it’s all _ruined_ by some thoughtless, _selfish_ human!”

“But… Roberta?” Zed asked.

“She was everything - she was going to give _me_ everything,” Nayda snapped. “And then she went and cheated on me - and then the divorce came, and I - lost - _everything_ \- we had worked for. No future, no retirement, no growing old together - all _gone_.”

John put a hand to the wall, keeping him upright as he fought his way to his feet. He pushed the heel of his other hand against his smarting forehead. “You mean Roberta didn’t love you enough so you threw your toys out of the pram.” He pulled his hand away to hiss in pain.

“Don’t taunt me,” she hissed.

“Why, what are you gonna do?” John snapped. “Set your demon on us? —Oh that’s right; you _can’t_ , cos we just broke your control over it.”

Nayda folded her arms. “Oh, John. Poor, unhappy, desperate John. I knew you’d walk right into all this and find all of the people who took Roberta away from me - starting with _this_ trouble maker and her stupid ouija board.”

“You mean all this was to track down everyone Roberta found happiness with?” Zed asked. “What kind of person _are_ you?”

“A cracked one,” John tutted. “You _bloody_ idiot,” he hurled at Nayda. “You unleashed a _demon_ , just to get back at someone who rejected you. Can you even _comprehend_ how incredibly _stupid_ that was?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Me? I just brought it here. What you’ve done is so much worse.”

“Only temporarily,” John shot back. “Now it’s free of you I can send it home.”

“You need to find it first,” she grinned. “But that shouldn’t be a problem because…” She looked at her watch. “It should be along soon. I _did_ lay the jorlanntay root on a bit thick, didn’t I?”

John looked down at his coat. He batted his hands against it before realisation dawned. “It’s demon chum,” he breathed.

“Got it in one,” Nayda said with a sarcastic wink. “You know, I’m going to miss you, I think. Of all the people I screwed because they weren’t Roberta, you were probably the most memorable. Creative. I would even go so far as to say… inventive.”

“Glad you enjoyed it, love,” he sneered.

“Oh don’t be like that, John. If you hadn’t come here and worked all this out, I would have found Heather myself - eventually - and then killed her and simply walked away. I really, _really_ don’t want to harm the lovely Zed. She’s been an absolute trooper throughout all this, and while I can’t for the life of me work out why she’s hanging around you, I can’t quite bring myself to hate her just for being a moth to your flame.”

“That’s all very touching,” John said, his lip still curled in distaste, “but when this demon arrives and I’ve sent him home, we’ll come for you next.”

“I’d _love_ to see that,” she grinned.

His hand came up and he pointed at her. “You’ll be lucky not to join your precious Irrucaynya in Hell when I’m done with you!”

“Oooh,” she oozed, wriggling her shoulders. “I like that voice on you. Makes me wish we had time for one more round before this all goes south.”

John fumed but Zed grabbed his elbow. “John… What do we do?”

“We get to the cab. We lead the bastard away from Heather - she’s not marked.”

“Wait!” Zed took off into the front room. She came back with a small bunch of green-brown sticks. “This is the jorlanntay root, right?”

“That’s it,” Heather said.

“So can we get rid of it? Burn it?” Zed asked.

“No. It’ll just release more of the scent,” John snapped. He kept his eyes on Nayda. “Kitchen sink - fill it and weigh the bloody root down under the water. Make sure it’s covered.”

Zed took off, pulling Heather with her. Nayda took a step forward.

John moved to block her way. “I wouldn’t.”

Nayda grinned. “You’re going to have to choose, John. When it gets here, who are you going to save? There are three of you for it to start on.”

“I think I’ll do alright, love. This isn’t my first disco.”

There was an almighty crash from the living room. Wood spewed out of the doorway, spraying splinters into the hallway. John and Nayda covered their faces with elbows, hands, anything - until a low hiss made them freeze.

Zed came barrelling back into the hallway. “Heather’s gone!” she grinned. “I got her out of the… back… door…” Her voice trailed away as her face fell.

A dark shape uncurled itself from just inside the doorway to the front room. Large, pock marked wings glistened black with a sickly slime that resembled mouldy fruit. The rents and tears in the membranes revealed odd body parts, legs and limbs unfolded to stretch out. It stood nearly eight feet tall, taking its weight on four legs. Two more limbs kept its balance as it opened three bright red eyes.

John sighed. “Well, shit.” 

“Irrucaynya!” Nayda cried. “Kill them!”

The demon hauled in a deep, ugly breath. It snorted out noxious fumes in her direction, its eyes churning with rage.

“It’s not listening, love,” John said nervously.

Nayda’s eyes widened. She shuffled back until she was against the far wall.

Irrucaynya turned its slick head. Its pronounced nostrils hauled in air, prompting its head to twist inhumanly far until it was glaring at Zed. It took a step.

“Whoa! Wait! Stop!” John cried. He threw his arms out. “Oi! Tosser!”

Irrucaynya stopped short. It twisted to appraise John. Its head went back in Zed’s direction. Then back to John.

“Yeah - yeah, that’s it, over here, mate!” John called.

“John - what are you doing?” Zed cried, fear rooting her to the spot.

“You got more powder on you than I did,” he hissed from the corner of his mouth. “Get to the kitchen - get out the back!”

“What about you?”

“You are the most infuriating bird I’ve ever met!” he shouted. “Just go!”

Zed took a step back. Her hand felt behind her for the doorjamb to the kitchen. She made it drop. “I’m not leaving you here with that thing.”

John rolled his eyes, then his head at her. “Just once I’d like you to do what you’re bloody told!”

The demon looked over at her. It let out a monstrous hiss. Its mouth began to open - wider and wider, revealing giant, glass-like teeth that dripped red.

“We both run on three,” Zed said, trying to stop herself from shaking in terror. “You go out the front, I g-go out the back.”

“Deal,” John snapped. “One - two—.” He leapt at Zed. They collided and went down in a heap. She fought herself right side up and found she was sitting on her knees with John’s coat around her shoulders.

She looked up. Irrucaynya looked away from her deliberately, clearly forgetting all about her. It advanced on John. She gasped and reached a hand out, but John waved her back.

“Go! Run for the back door - get Chas!” he ordered.

“But—”

“Just bloody go, will you!” he raged.

Nayda gulped in air from where she was plastered back against the wall. “Go, Zed! Run!” she cried.

John glanced at Nayda, then backed up as Irrucaynya kept sliding its sticky feet toward him. He swallowed and tried to turn, tried to make it to the front door. A hand in his back shoved and he nearly lost his balance. He staggered to stay upright. “I should just duck and let it tear you a new one,” he growled.

“It won’t harm me,” Nayda breathed. “But you’re going to die really _really_ painfully.”

“Of course,” he tutted.

Irrucaynya lifted a hand. John saw it move and flinched back. The hand swept down across him. He grinned as it flew perilously close - but was clearly going to fall short of its target.

Until claws shot out of the stumpy ends. They raked right into the front of John’s shirt. He leapt back but the damage was done. Stinging pain made him jolt upright in shock. “Bastard,” he blurted.

Something _whoomf_ ed into the back of his knees. He fell to his hands and knees, desperately trying to focus past the raging pain across his chest. _Think of an exorcism_ , he told himself furiously. _Hurry it up before it makes bar snacks out of what’s left of you!_

A huge limb grabbed his head. He was lifted off the floor. Muscles wrenched, joints protested, gravity itself disappeared as he slammed into something very large, very flat and very hard. He slid to the floor and coughed out in agony.

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ ,” he panted. He was lifted up only to be whammed back into the floor. His head bounced. “ _Omnis - omnis satanica potestas!_ ” he spluttered. “ _Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!_ ” Pain seared down his arm, spilling hot wetness over his shirt. “Aaargh! _Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et—!_ ”

A black shape closed over his face. He gripped at the wrist attached and struggled. White-hot agony went down his side. He coughed in air and kicked as fast as he could.

Nayda watched wide-eyed as Irrucaynya dangled John from its greater height. John’s feet flailed harder and harder as the demon’s hand began to squeeze at his head. He bellowed in pain and rage. He kicked and struggled. Still the demon squeezed.

Nayda went for the front door. She ripped it open but skidded to a stop, her escape blocked. Zed pushed her face into hers - and then threw an angry punch that knocked Nayda down. Zed simply stepped over her.

“What the—?” Chas called from behind Zed.

“John!” she cried. Her face twisted in horror as she watched the demon attempt to crush the slighter man’s head in its grip.

Chas turned and grabbed at the pocket of the trenchcoat. “Check inside! Check everywhere!” he shouted.

“What for?” she cried, even as she searched through inside pockets.

“This coat hides things!”

“What do you mean, it hides things?”

“Come on, come on!” Chas shouted. “There has to be something—.” He pulled out a long thin blade. It glowed a dull blue as he lifted it to see it better.

“Try it!” Zed shouted. “Stab it! Make it stop!”

Chas looked up once. He lined himself up. He ran full pelt at Irrucaynya’s back. His boots skidded on the wooden floor as he plunged the blade as deep as he could into the thick hide. 

Irrucaynya screamed in pain. It turned and drove an elbow into Chas. He was hurled across the room. Nayda opened her eyes, struggling onto her front, finding her balance. Zed looked up as Irrucaynya began to turn. John plummeted from its hand. He bounced into the flooring, unconscious. Zed reached out and yanked the blade out of the demon’s back. It stretched up in pain. It whirled round, one wing narrowly missing Zed’s frantic duck. She popped up and lurched forward. She shouted in rage as she hammered the knife into the chest.

Irrucaynya tilted back suddenly. Zed sensed something move as the demon crashed into the floor. It twitched and writhed. Chas was a blur, hurrying around the thrashing hellspawn and grabbing John under the arms. He pulled and heaved, dragging the man who had been reduced to white and red stripes. Chas aimed for the front door.

“Zed! Let’s go!” he shouted over his shoulder. He knelt down and took a good hold of John’s shirt. He strained upwards and threw the smaller man over his shoulder like a rag doll. He turned and looked at Zed. “Now!”

Zed’s eyes were glued to the demon on the floor. Its wings were pin-wheeling against the wood as if trying to get purchase. Each of its six limbs scratched and clawed at the wood for help. The mouth opened and it screamed.

Zed jumped and jammed her hands over her ears. “We should do the exorcism now!” she cried.

“Do _you_ know how it goes? Because I sure don’t!” he shot back. “Let’s go!”

“But we’re covered in that powder! It’ll find us!”

“Good - let’s lead it back to the mill house! If we can trap it in there we can send it home!”

Zed stepped back. She kept going, one foot behind the other, unable to look away from the writhing, squealing mass of demon. She made it to the door. Then she looked down.

Nayda had got to her hands and feet. She scrabbled across the wood to grab for the knife still buried up to its hilt in the demon’s chest. She yanked - and yanked. It came free with a sickening _slurrrp_ that made Zed recoil in horror.

Nayda pushed herself back. She skittered backwards as Irrucaynya fell, limp, to the boards. “No,” she hissed. “Get up! Kill them!”

Irrucaynya did nothing of the kind.

Nayda looked at the knife in her hand. Her head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed on Zed. She lifted the knife and wheeled it back to throw.

“Go go _go!_ ” Zed cried in shock. She pushed at Chas to get to the door.

He shoved. Zed fell. The knife _thunk_ ed deep into his back.

Zed squeaked in surprise as Chas fell to his knees. Zed got her hands to John’s trouser belt to stop him rolling headfirst into the floor. As Chas sank John slid right into Zed. She flailed to catch him. The weight of him forced her to the floor on her knees, her arm trapped under his head.

Chas collapsed slowly to the wooden flooring. “Run,” he croaked.

And died.

She gasped and looked up. Nayda was wiping black blood from her hands. “Well well well,” she breathed. “Just you and me. About time.”

“Don’t come any closer!” Zed shouted. She curled her arm around John as if simple flesh and blood could protect him. “I’m warning you!”

“What will you do? Give me the Care Bear stare?” Nayda grinned. “Girl, you are about to join Chas in the afterlife. Don’t worry - John will be there soon.”

Zed slapped at John’s face desperately, over and over. “Wake up, John - please.”

Muscles in his face began to react to her harsh plea for help.

Nayda’s grin slipped. She turned and looked behind her. 

Irrucaynya’s wings flexed. They stretched out, then flipped back into place. Its limbs moved and touched at the floor beneath, before it pushed itself laboriously onto its front. It began to rise.

“Get ready,” Nayda said as she backed out of the way. “Looks like it’s your turn next.”

 


	8. EIGHT

EIGHT

 

 

 

Irrucaynya stood tall. Its wings flipped neatly behind it as it took a step forward.

Zed slapped harder at John’s face. “Come on!” she growled.

“Arrgh - pack it in!” he grumped.

She shook at his shoulder and his eyes levered themselves open as if in need of a car jack. “John - cast the demon back to Hell or whatever it is you call it!”

“Demon…” He muttered. His eyes fixed on the shape advancing on them. “Shit! Demon!”

She helped him to sit up. He all but fell into her and pushed his hand round her side as if feeling for clothing labels. “Hey!” she protested.

“Pardon me, love. I just need… this.” He pulled out a jar and shook it vigorously.

Nayda noticed it and her eyes went wide. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Never been known to pass that phrase up,” he sneered. He unscrewed the jar. “Oi! Irrucaynya!” He hurled the jar directly at the wall by Nayda’s head. The glass shattered but it hardly mattered; fine powder was already coating Nayda’s hair and her top.

“No!” she screamed.

“ _You_ brought him here, _you_ deal with him!” he shouted.

Zed helped him up, nearly having heart failure as he slipped in something dark and wet under his boot. She held him upright. 

He threw his left arm round her shoulder and leant on her, but he was staring at the demon who had suddenly caught a whiff of concentrated jorlanntay root. “Looks like he’s going for the catnip,” he breathed. He wiped at an annoying trickle down his face. When his flapping shirt cuff came away red, it was only Zed who noticed.

A gasp and a choking cough broke his concentration. His attention went down and he gasped. “Chas!” He attempted to reach down for the knife in Chas’ back, but it was clear he had neither the strength nor the pain-free flexibility. Zed pushed him back and yanked it free herself. She held it firmly in her palm as she looked up at Irrucaynya.

It was looking from her to Nayda and back again. It took one step toward Zed. 

John’s knee buckled and he began to slip. She shuffled him back into her to keep him upright. Her left hand brandished the blade. The demon took another step. “Try it,” Zed barked.

Irrucaynya’s head turned painfully slowly toward Nayda. She was trying to shake powder from her hair, to knock it from her top. She paused and looked up. Irrucaynya began to close on her.

“No, wait,” she said quickly. “I command you! Do as I say! Kill _them!_ ”

Irrucaynya didn’t so much as hesitate. It stopped and an upper limb shot out and clamped round her throat.

Chas groaned and rolled onto his side. Zed felt John slipping down her right side and hefted him back up. “Come on, you two,” she grunted with effort.

Chas was on his hands and knees. “Trying,” he coughed. “That… really… hurt.”

“Not as much as that will,” John muttered.

Chas pushed himself to his feet. He realised John and Zed were staring, unable to look away, at the demon and its hold now on Nayda’s head.

“What did I miss?” Chas asked. He frowned at John. “Help her!”

Zed looked at John, then Nayda. “Chas is right. Send it back, John. Help her.”

“Why should I?” he said amiably.

“Now!” Chas warned him.

John turned a weary, sickly smile on him. One eye tried to close in pain or fatigue or both. The other winced against the blood trying to seep round his eyebrow and get into his field of vision. His gaze went back to Nayda, his lip curling in resentful discomfort.

“John _please_ ,” Zed said urgently.

Nayda screamed as Irrucaynya began to squeeze her skull. John tilted his head, his glassy eyes going to the floor.

“Why aren’t you helping her?” Zed shouted.

“Because she killed two people and she brought that thing up here to do it,” he shot back angrily. “I’d say she’s earned herself a little Hell-time, wouldn’t you?”

Zed shuffled him up against her side. “This is wrong,” she snapped at him. “It’s wrong and you know it.”

John rolled his head round to look at her. She fumed at him. He raised his eyebrows.

“ _Please_ ,” she urged.

“Come on, John,” Chas said quietly.

John gave a monumental huff. He let his head dangle back on his neck for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked up. “Irrucaynya, I address you,” he called recklessly, as if he cared neither way. He coughed, then dragged in more air. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare_.”

Nyada was dropped. She hit the boards and lay still. 

Irrucaynya was anything but. It writhed and lashed its wings, trumpeting its fury. John sniffed a runny nose and forced his head to stay up. He began to recite the words again, over and over, and while his voice was quiet, it certainly pervaded everything Irrucaynya did.

The creature began to sink. The limbs gave out beneath it. It crashed into the floor as its wings wrapped up around it. John called the last few lines at it. Black steam rose from the struggling wings. The mass appeared to boil and smoke, until it began to curl tighter.

They watched, at a loss to do much else, as it vibrated and shrieked. 

Abruptly it went silent.

Nobody moved. 

Time ticked on, people got their breath back.

John slipped. 

Zed dropped the knife and moved to catch him, her hand round his waist digging in. He grunted something in pain, causing Chas to grip his shoulder and haul him upright.

“Ow!” he protested. “Ow ow ow ow _ow!_ ”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Chas tutted.

Zed couldn’t help but smile - until her eyes tripped over Nayda. She looked up at Chas. “You got him?”

“I’ve got him,” he nodded.

Zed inched out from under John’s left arm and went across the room. She gave the lump of fizzing demon carcass a wide berth to get to Nayda. Crouching down, she put a hand to her neck and waited. She breathed in with shock, getting up and backing away. “She’s dead,” she whispered. She looked across at Chas.

He shook his head sadly. “We call the police. Heather is going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Bring the cab round, Chas,” John muttered. “We have to keep Heather out of the hands of the police.”

“Can you stand?” he asked critically.

“Oh piss off. I’ve had worse off me dad.”

Chas glanced at Zed, caught her eye. She frowned in confusion but everything about Chas’ demeanour suggested he was more than willing to back right away from John’s words. He cleared his throat. “Well you… stay here. Zed? Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“If only anyone could,” she said with a rueful smile.

Chas lifted John away from him. Whilst he put a hand out against the wall to steady himself, Chas went out of the front door.

John inched his way down the wall, right up to Nayda’s body. He slid down the paint steadily, ending up slumped more or less on his arse, his legs clearly having given up somewhere underneath him. His head leant against the wall as his eyes ran over the dead woman.

Zed crouched by the demon corpse. “I thought _all_ of it went to Hell,” she said, her face one of horrified fascination.

John’s head rolled listlessly against the paintwork. “Just the soul.”

“Demons have souls?”

“It’s the bit that refuses to die,” he managed.

She looked down at it, putting her hands to a wingtip and squeezing. She jumped and pulled her hand back, staring at her finger and thumb. “The wings are… thin. Like membranes,” she said. She studied the black mass in alarmed awe. “It’s like they’re made of… snot. Like… a kind of… mucus.”

John snorted, before something made him smile. He put a hand to his right arm, feeling it squelch into hot, wet skin, turning his face sour. 

“Hey, we should go before—.” Zed looked over at him, but the look on his face made her stop short. She got to her feet slowly, pulling his coat more tightly around herself. She went around Nayda and knelt down next to John. “You ok?” she asked hopefully.

John opened his mouth before he let it lapse into a cynical, unkind smile. He blinked a little blearily, his eyes pinched as if they smarted. He let his head fall to Zed’s shoulder. She sighed before she lifted her arm and the coat propped round her, folding them both around his left shoulder, feeling his wayward hair tickle at the side of her chin.

“I’m sorry about Nayda,” she said quietly.

“She had it coming.”

Zed swallowed her reply. She closed her eyes to the dead bodies in front of them. “We should go.”

“I want my coat back.”

“Then let’s _go_.”

“I can’t get up.”

She squeezed his shoulder. They waited for Chas to return.

 

ooOoo

 

Heather clasped her hands together, pacing to and fro. Chas waited, his arms folded, as Zed spoke at length on a large, antique telephone. One hand on the base that housed a large wheel of numbers, the rest of her was leaning against the bookshelf, the large receiver shoved into her hair as she ordered and explained.

“Yes. Of course I will - she wasn’t even there,” Zed said. “She was at the market with me. Yes.”

Heather shook her head, putting her hands to her elbows and striding around in circles. “This is madness,” she said to herself. “Roberta, Elena, Nayda… they’re all dead.”

“Hey,” Chas said quickly. “You’re ok. We’ll make sure the police don’t bother you.”

“That’s not what I meant - people are _dead_. Isn’t this all my fault?”

“No,” Chas said. He put a hand to her arm to make her stop. She turned to face him. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It was Nayda, and only her.” 

“But I got the ouija board and—”

“Heather… You may have brought that game board into this, but that’s all it was - a _game_ board. It’s not real. It didn’t do anything. _Nayda_ was the one who brought that demon here, and _she’s_ the one who paid for it.” He paused. “Besides, she was… unstable. Who goes around killing off friends of their ex?”

“Right,” she muttered. “I get it. I think.”

They heard contact on the iron stairs and turned to look up. John shuffled down them steadily, all his weight on his left hand on the railing.

“You ok, John?” Chas asked. He eyed the way the smaller man paused for a few seconds at the bottom, as if to brace him for the long walk to the wooden table.

“Right as rain,” he said with a wide, joyless smile. Chas took in John’s slippers - the worn out grey ones, barely enough to keep his feet from the boards. His long dark blue dressing gown was open, as if even it couldn’t get up the enthusiasm to be upset that it wasn’t tied. If it was exhausted, so too were his white v-necked t-shirt and the dark blue cotton boxers poking out beneath. The entire picture spoke volumes on how much healing he needed, illustrated ably by the way he sloped past the table completely and went into the open kitchen area. His hand went to the surface and he bent over with what appeared to be a lot of effort to fetch a clear bottle from under the sink area.

Chas patted at Heather’s arm before crossing to the kitchen and taking the bottle from John’s hand. He read the label and then frowned. “Gin? Seriously?”

“You’ve started hiding the whisky,” John grumped. He took the bottle back and carried it to the wooden table. He plonked himself down and relaxed as much as he could, his spine collapsing as if made of marshmallows.

Zed put down the phone. “So… the police are satisfied that there was a break-in,” she said. She crossed to the table, taking the bottle from John’s hand. His open grip closed on thin air, confused. She unscrewed the lid and took a swig herself before pushing his hand back open and depositing the bottle back in it. He blinked but wasted no time introducing a generous measure to his system. She cleared her throat of the sharp alcohol. “Oh that’s nasty,” she rasped. “They’re on the look-out for someone who let an animal escape - they’re thinking bear. At least that’s what they’ve decided to call the dead ‘animal’ on the floor in the house. Apparently it killed a women who had popped in to call on a friend. Lucky you weren’t in at the time,” she said meaningfully to Heather.

Heather ran her hands through her hair. “I can’t go back there - not to live,” she groaned. “I’m moving. To Canada. Or… Australia.”

“Say hi to the bunyip for me,” John said. He took another big gulp of gin.

Zed studied him, then looked at Heather. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“I’m calling a cab,” she said smartly. “Thank you - all of you. I don’t know what happened, and judging by the state of John - who really should be at a hospital - I don’t _ever_ want to know what happened.”

“Good girl,” John nodded, his eyes on the table. “Let Chas take you.” He let the bottle down to the table as if it were too heavy.

“I think he should stay here,” she said quietly. She looked up at the man in question. “Thank you. Look after these two - and you. You three… You saved my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. She nodded and he went with her to the staircase, going up and along the top landing, to the wooden steps to the front door.

Zed looked at John to find him reaching for the packet of Silk Cut on the table. Her hand landed on top of his and the packet, trapping them both to the surface. “Really?” she warned.

“Leave off,” he sighed. “Today’s been hard enough.”

She let him go and he opened up the packet, taking out a cigarette and lighting it slowly. He dropped the box and his Zippo to the table. “She’s right - you should go to a hospital,” she said.

“It’s just scratches.”

“Scratches that Chas had to stitch up for you.”

“Lucky it didn’t ruin me tatt,” he said. “Got that from a lesser demon in a poker game.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I’m guessing everything else hurts.”

“Only when I move,” he nodded with a broad smile. “Or _don’t_ move.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, sitting on the chair next to his.

“What?”

“Don’t do that smile. It’s only your mouth, not your eyes, and it says ‘everyone and everything can just bugger off; I’m done’,” she said. He grinned around the cigarette stuck in his mouth. “I still say you should have gone to the hospital,” she added. She put her hand up to the white patch over his temple.

He twitched it beyond her reach. “Horses,” he stated.

“What?”

“Horses,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “Why horses if it wasn’t Heather?”

“Maybe it wanted to show me the next victim, so we could help her.”

“‘It’ wanted?”

“Well who knows why I see the things I see,” she shrugged. “But today it helped.”

“Yeah, love. It did.” He took the Silk Cut from his lips and letting out a long stream of smoke from his nose. “By the way…” His voice trailed off. He hesitated, then pushed the cigarette back in his mouth.

“What?” she asked.

“Nah, forget it.”

“Come on, what?” she asked, nudging his shoulder. He winced and she leant back, her smile falling into a guilty frown. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be right. Just need a few days indoors.”

She frowned, putting her hands on the table and clasping her fingers. “Come on, what do you want to say?”

He took the cigarette from his mouth. “You were fearless, love. Amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, puzzled. “So why do you look troubled?”

“That’s going to get you killed one day.”

“Well… _not_ being it today might have got _you_ killed. And Chas. —Again.”

He shook his head. “Just… take it easy, yeah?”

“Ngaw - you don’t want me to get hurt?” she teased.

His head tilted and he looked at the table top speculatively, a hint of a smile to his face. “I’d miss the constant nagging.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers and grinned.

Chas came down the steps again. “Well, Heather’s gone. Looks like we’re all done here.” He paused in front of the table. “You know… you should sleep, John.”

“Oh here we go,” John sighed. He scrubbed his free hand through his hair, letting his head dangle toward the table.

Zed looked up at Chas and shook her head. Her eyes darted to the kitchen and back deliberately. 

“And you need to eat,” Chas said.

“Look, I appreciate that you two think I have the mental age of a ten year old, but I _can_ feed myself when I need to,” he grumped, his head still dangling. “Give over, the pair of you. It’s starting to wear a bit thin.”

“You’re saying you’re not hungry? At all?” Chas pressed.

John lifted his head and took another drag on the cigarette. “Not in the least. Maybe it’s painkillers.”

“Well I’m hungry,” Zed said, pinning a look on Chas.

“Then fill your boots, you two,” John said listlessly.

Chas and Zed exchanged a glance. “Ok then,” Chas breezed. “I got that slab of beef out of the freezer last night. It should be ready to roast right about now.” He looked at Zed meaningfully.

“Is that what those small potatoes are waiting for by the kitchen counter?” she asked as innocently as possible.

John’s head turned and he looked at Chas as if heaven’s light itself were radiating out of his friend. “Ohhh Chas - tell me you’re thinking of doin’ a roast with them little spuds and the grilled tomatoes and them green bean things?”

“No,” he warned. “That would take too long. I have things to do.”

John grinned. “Bollocks - get to it. You know where the kitchen is.”

Chas scowled at him, but as he turned away to the preparation area he caught Zed’s eye and winked with a smile. 

She turned to look back at John. “Are you just going to sit here, drinking and smoking?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “I don’t want to get up. Everything _hurts_.”

“Why don’t you just magic yourself better?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he sighed. “I could, but… I wouldn’t want to live with the cost.”

She got to her feet. “Well I’m going to help Chas.”

“Let him do the beef, love. He’s got some secret recipe or something that makes it taste fantastic.” He put his elbow on the table and leant his hand down, tapping the end of his cigarette to make tiny flakes fall into the ashtray beneath.

“And then when we’ve eaten, you’re going to sleep, right?”

“If it’d stop you mithering,” he sighed. She raised her eyebrows and he turned his head to look at her. His face was a picture of apologetic self-pity, making her sigh.

“Sit here and rest, _tío loco_ ,” she said quietly. She leant over and pushed her hand into his hair, ruffling it like that of her favourite ten-year-old, before leaning her head down and pushing a kiss into the top of his head. 

“Leave it out,” he squirmed, but she was already grinning herself toward the kitchen.

John’s semi-scowl watched her go, analysing the moment. He let himself soak up the warm comfort of the room, the sounds of happy people working with a purpose not too far away, the aura of everything being under control and - for the moment - harmless. He sat and listened, until finally he had exhausted his cigarette. He stubbed it out and pushed himself to his feet with an effort.

“Here, let me help,” he said, sloping over to the work top next to the two of them. “I’m good at green beans.”

“My ass,” Chas snorted. “And don’t let him touch _anything_ until he’s washed his hands - with actual _soap_.”

“I heard that,” Zed said, pushing John toward the sink.

The house watched as the three of them elbowed and chuckled, washed and chopped, seasoned and bantered. And as the afternoon eased into a friendly, comfortable evening, it realised the true meaning of contentment.

 

 

**FIN**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading, people. You don't know how amazing it is to get traffic and comments on this, when you keep getting rejection letters from agents for books you write. You people keep me writing.


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